


You probably couldn't see through the lights (but you were staring straight at me)

by roommate



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 00:25:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 42,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1708169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roommate/pseuds/roommate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All the white noise in Jongdae's life begins to freak him out of his own skin. Enter Kim Joonmyun and his distinct tone. (Warnings: age gap, emphasis on drinking and clubbing, brief mentions of death. Please take these warnings seriously. | Written for teddyescher at <a href="http://criticalcapture.livejournal.com/19970.html">criticalcapture 2014</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The sound of the cheers is deafening. Jongdae isn't new to this — being in front of hundreds, thousands of people, the spotlight aimed straight at him, blinding and washing him out. He's been in the industry far too long for the feeling of the heat of the light prickling his skin to get to him, make him crack his neck and make the smile on his lips waver. He focuses his eyes on the camera in front of them, smiles — practiced, calculated, tight at the corners but relaxed enough to still win the hearts of many. He leans over to Taeyeon to whisper mostly just garbled syllables, and Taeyeon plays along, whispering in return.

When the camera pans to Jonghyun and the winner of season three, the muscles of Taeyeon's cheeks relax, pulling down a little. "I did mean that comment, though, the one about Jonghyun being an ass. I _hate_ him!"

"Talented ass," Jongdae mumbles, a smile still at one corner of his lips. By now, he's mastered the art of frowning with one side of the lip, and smiling with the other; Taeyeon still takes home the award for _best practiced smile in the industry_ , but it's not one Jongdae plans on snatching from her anytime soon. There are other awards to be won, recognition to be earned — he's set on the one Jonghyun has gotten himself for the third year in a row.

"Funny we should call him that when he doesn't—"

" _Careful,_ the camera's gonna—"

Jonghyun looks over, smiling softly at them, the hint of tears at the corners of his eyes. There are a lot of things that you can fake as an idol — a smile, some laughter, the cock of the eyebrow or the twitch of the lip. Jonghyun's tears come too easily for him to even fake it, and if there's anyone in the room who's as real as he can be, it's Jonghyun.

Jongdae flashes one thumb up. _Great job, you fucker,_ he mouths, only subtly so that the camera doesn't catch it. He means everything, even the wiggling of the thumb.

Jonghyun sticks his tongue out at him. _I'll let you win next time._

Jongdae snorts, and Taeyeon slaps him in his side, claps near his face as if saying, _this is our cue, we can't miss our cue to clap._

He raises his hands, clapping in the air, then in Jonghyun's direction. _Don't be too easy on me, sunbae,_ he mouths right back, and there it is again, that flash of spontaneity, a moment of complete surrender — Jonghyun cackling, mouth wide open as he laughs-cries-loses it completely in front of national TV, with the winner of The Voice of Korea season three right beside him, crying on his shoulder.

Jongdae shakes his head, gulping hard as he tries to hold back his tears. If this TV show is a game of pretend, then he'll win, hands down. Probably.

 

 

It isn't a secret that after parties in the music industry stretch past midnight and seep into the morning, all the way up to late in the evening the following day. Jonghyun calls for a celebration party _for_ the celebration the night before, saying, "I'm not the best party organizer, but _damn_ that was one hell of a party!" He means Boa dancing on top of a table, both hands pointing forward as she bobs her head, duck face and all, or maybe Taeyeon belting out Celine Dion's _To Love You More_ and singing the last few lines into a bottle of Jose Cuervo. Then there's Jongdae _almost_ dropping an entire unpeeled lemon into his drink, giggling as he said, "Oh, I didn't feel like peeling it." All of these Jonghyun had taken a video of, and Jonghyun had kickstarted the evening at Blue Moon with a trip down last night's memory lane, humming _Last Friday Night_ under his breath as he paused at the _best parts_ of Boa's twerking video.

"I don't know which is worse," Boa begins, pausing to take a sip of her Margarita. She's playing it safe tonight, still nursing a nasty headache from last night's session or maybe from holing herself up in a studio for one whole day, trying to master the last of the songs for her upcoming album. "Him releasing that to the press, or giving the management a copy."

"Blackmail, on both counts," Jongdae quips. He rests his chin on Jonghyun's shoulder, and Jonghyun shrugs him off in response. "They won't mean a thing, though. You still have that video from last year, right?"

"The one where Taeyeon had him dress up as Barbie—"

Taeyeon chuckles. "I have one where he's in a Sakura costume—"

"Okay, I get it, you guys are asses." Jonghyun locks his phone, laying it down on the table. "And Jongdae's getting us drinks. Second round's on you, right?"

"Motion for Jonghyun to pay for _everything_ since it's his idea to drag us out here, anyway." Jongdae grins at Jonghyun, bare teeth flashing at him. Beside him, Boa's already running her finger along the drinks list, asking Taeyeon if _Long Island has enough alcohol despite the 'iced tea front'_. "All those in favor, say aye."

"Aye, aye, _aye,_ " Taeyeon says, the snakes an arm around Jonghyun's shoulders. Jonghyun isn't that small, nor does he have a tiny frame, but the way he folds and tucks his chin at the slightest brush of Taeyeon's hand against his arm makes him look like a child lost in a huge bar, rubbing elbows with the cool kids. Jonghyun grumbles, turns to Jongdae with a snarl until Jongdae waves him off and says, "Okay, okay, I'll get us a couple of shots, but you're in charge of the Black Label later."

"Dude, that's for old people."

"We _are_ old," Jongdae replies. Shoving truths up in people's faces has always been one of his better traits; the worst has got to be the inability to wake up before ten following a long night in a bar. Tomorrow will see the worst of him again, but then substitute 'bar' with 'office' and you'll get the same effect. The difference is in enjoying solitude in a huge, sound-proof space, headphones worn over his ears as he ploughs through compositions and beats and notes; years after and party music still isn't his type. He's only here for the alcohol; if he's inebriated enough then he can at least pretend he likes dancing to _Talk Dirty_ or whatever's the latest hit.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm still a kid."

"At heart," Taeyeon says, turning to Boa. "No escape, unnie — you're the eldest. I have a picture of your birth certificate as proof."

"That's actually kinda creepy?" Boa's laughing lightly, anyway. To Jongdae, she says, "Come on, get your ass moving. Alcohol's the only thing that can make us feel younger."

"I say 'regret'!" Jongdae calls out before slipping from the thickening crowd in the second floor, taking slow steps as he makes his way downstairs and to the bar.

Blue Moon hasn't changed much from when Jongdae had last been here — roughly a few months ago, just before the live shows for The Voice of Korea began. Being a coach meant having to look after fifteen more people even if he hardly had an idea how to take care of himself, but it's fun enough a job that he's signed himself up for another season, renewing his contract before heading to the party last night. "You can even expect me to be there for three more seasons," he'd even said, and he couldn't tell back then if it was the pain of losing to Jonghyun for the third time in the row that made him say that, or if it was because of the fact that he found himself actually enjoying teaching people how to sing properly. It was a testament to how much he's grown as an artist, as a _performer_ , as a person who once thought music was only something that got him through rough nights spent inside a _hagwon,_ the four walls of his private cubicle closing in on him with each passing day, until _Sooneung_ finally came.

"Twenty shots," he tells the bartender, then leans on the counter as he waits for his order.

The band that has been performing for the past hour finally ends its set, closing with slow rock. If there's one thing that has drastically changed in Blue Moon, it's the type of music that it serves. Back when Jongdae was still a trainee at SM Entertainment, Blue Moon was one of the places he'd frequently visit. Blue Moon was known for its jazz music then, slow and mellow that catered only to the older people. Jongdae loved the relaxing sound, though, so when Jaejoong invited him to Blue Moon along with a few more friends (Youngsaeng who was set to debut in a few months, and then Jongwoon who was to collaborate with Dana on a track for a TV drama), he accepted all too quickly. It was the first break Jaejoong had caught after the promotions for his second studio album, and the smile on Jaejoong's lips — soft and relaxed and _relieved_ — was the first Jongdae had seen from him in a long, long while.

"Who'd have thought that someone who can only dance for shits and giggles will actually debut?" Jongdae remembers Jaejoong saying. His debut song, _Incomplete_ , was a mellow track that people of Jaejoong's age normally didn't sing in the hope of being skyrocketed to stardom, but Jaejoong wasn't like any other singer — he was partially tone-deaf and the only way he could tell that he was singing the right notes was through the vibrations in his throat. Jaejoong had a voice that moved even Yoo Youngjin to tears the first time Youngjin heard Jaejoong sing. Jaejoong had a tone so distinct Jongdae had to live with the sound of Jaejoong's laughter in his ears the first few months following Jaejoong's debut. That happens to Jongdae all the time &madsh people's voices getting stuck in his head, too many different sounds that he can't pick his own voice among the throng anymore.

"You keep putting yourself down, hyung," Jongdae had said then, and took one of the tequila shots nearby. "You may not be the best dancer, but you're a great singer."

"So are you, Jongdae," Jaejoong had replied. His voice was soothing, the type that wrapped itself around you like a quilt. "So until you become a good enough dancer, fake it — do your best and keep believing that you _will_ become a great dancer someday. Heck, maybe you can be even better than I am."

"Everyone's a better dancer than you are," Jongdae had quipped, chuckling. After a while, he added, " _Hyung._ "

He debuted three years later, at the age of twenty-one — a bit older than most idols hoping to make it big in the industry, but old enough to be really good at what he was supposed to do — he'd already found a workaround for his weird vocal tone, already knew his own voice, its highs and lows, its kinks, like the back of his band. When he nearly went sharp on his debut performance, he winged it, doing a run up until he reached the highest note he could possibly reach, then transitioned to a falsetto. It is still one of his best performances, to date.

"Looks like I'm not yet late," comes a familiar voice from beside him. Jongdae looks to his side, and he feels the corners of his lips tug up in response. "Is this Cuervo?"

"Nah, it's Don Julio. Your favorite, right?" Jongdae replies. He opens his arms wide, leaning forward to take the person in his arms for a quick hug. "Look, Baek, I'll let you in on a secret — Jonghyun's the only one who likes Cuervo—"

"But everybody likes Taeyeon-noona, yeah," Baekhyun finishes, giving Jongdae a few pats on the back before pulling away. "Missed me already? C'mon, I just missed the party last night; we've been spending every week together before that."

Jongdae's eyes dart to the stage, now void of the band that had just performed. Someone goes up, two mic stands in hand — one shorter than the other, and also of a different color. "Jonghyun was more quiet than the usual. I was missing the noise," he says after a while, turning to the bartender with a small smile as the drinks arrive. Baekhyun steals one for himself, downing the shot in a gulp. Another wave of silence, and Jongdae's halfway through balancing the tray on his hands when the performer on stage moves closer to the microphone, a small voice filling the room. No words other than the occasional, "Mic test, one, two, three," but the performer keeps strumming his guitar, tuning it. The cacophony sounds strangely like real music, though, not a complete disarray of notes.

Jongdae lays the tray back down on the counter and takes a shot. The bartender mumbles something about refilling the shot glass, and Jongdae simply shakes his head, eyes still fixed on the performer.

"He looks tiny," Baekhyun comments. A few more strums, then a pluck jolting Jongdae back to his state of complete soberness. "I'll say hi to the people up there," Baekhyun then says after a while, taking the tray from Jongdae and bringing the drinks to the second floor.

Jongdae takes a seat at the bar, swiveling so that he's facing the stage. Complete silence, then a familiar opening sequence. The strumming starts slow, mellow, and Jongdae leans forward, his chin propped on his clasped hands. The performer has his eyes closed, and the spotlight sort of washes him out — bright blond hair, white polo, blue jeans, brown leather shoes that make him look like a young professional working in an advertising agency. The darkness on either side close in on him as the spotlight dims a little, and his voice comes in, soft humming that slowly peaks, a smooth transition to the first verse.

His voice isn't anything spectacular — it's thin, reedy, but he sounds _different_. Jongdae goes through a catalogue of artists in his mind — too low for Alex Goot and Sam Tsui, maybe a bit high for a normal Sam Woolf, but the tone sounds a bit familiar, like he's heard it before, only once, somewhere that isn't Blue Moon or in the vicinity of Gangnam. He goes through places now as the song transitions to the section just before the chorus, the performer's voice hitting a sweet spot, a velvety tone spilling from his lips as he hits a note higher than most male singers can reach.

Jongdae takes a deep breath. He's never been good with faces, but he never forgets a voice — two years ago, in Hongdae, when he and Jonghyun celebrated the occasion of their new singles reaching platinum status in a little over two weeks in _Bbang_. Ten in the evening. Piano as an accompaniment, singing Vienna Teng songs. A voice at the back of his mind says, _he looks more comfortable playing a guitar._ The name still escapes him, but he can hear the stark improvement in the voice now — considerably fuller, more rounded at the peaks of the song. A bit more confident in the way he carries himself, despite the slightly hunched shoulders. But then that might just be the weight of the guitar pulling his shoulders down.

The second verse has stronger strumming going on, and Jongdae finds himself bobbing his head to the rhythm of the beat. The performer has opened his eyes now — dark and heavy, but at least the message cuts across even more clearly now with the performer making eye contact with the crowd. Their eyes meet briefly, but the performer can be staring at anyone; Jongdae's old and his eyesight isn't exactly the best, even with his contact lenses on. The performer can be staring at the bartender behind Jongdae, and Jongdae just happened to be in the way.

By the time the song reaches the second chorus, Jongdae's already humming the song, studying the lyrics carefully to know which parts he can draw out, which ones he can opt to not put much emphasis on. _Probably one octave lower for me, but the pitch is just right for him,_ Jongdae tells himself. The previous verse is still playing in his head.

There's a bit of dissonance as the second chorus ends, moving on to the bridge. The set up is painstakingly long, and only on the second run of the line _give me love_ , after eight counts and a second voice soars above the performer's usual tone, does he realize what's going on. The performer's singing into the electric green microphone in a pitch much higher than the one he'd used in the previous verses, but— "This isn't falsetto," Jongdae whispers to no one in particular. He gulps hard; only then does he realize that his throat has gone dry.

The performer keeps going higher until he steps back for a while, hitting his guitar hard just a few spaces shy of the hole, only lightly at first. Another four counts, then he hits it harder than before, and the music starts to take a different feel now. Jongdae can feel his chest constricting, his throat burning. There's the sharp taste of metal on his tongue.

The performer leans back in now, singing the same verse in a much lower tone. Slowly, he takes each line higher, one notch at a time until he has his eyes closed again, eyebrows furrowed as he belts out one last high note, a soft _ooh_ that wraps around Jongdae and sends shivers down his spine. His hands have gone cold, and the singer's hitting his guitar hard, pounding, again and again until he's almost hugging his guitar.

The grip on the guitar loosens and the singer throws his head back, one hand wound around the microphone. His skin is pale, almost sickly in the harsh stage lights, and he's swaying to the music he has created on stage, tapping his foot to the melody.

Jongdae clenches his fists. The accompaniment fades out abruptly, and the singer draws the microphone close to his lips.

Jongdae exhales.

There are very few people who can successfully pull off singing without any accompaniment, and this person, this singer right here — so much larger than the stage and the song and any other performer Jongdae has seen recently — he is one of them. Jongdae feels his jaws go slack, his breathing heavy and ragged. The guitar slowly comes back in, the song stripped down to only a few layers of sound, and the singer does that thing again where he tilts his head, closes his as he belts out a note, taking it higher, his voice dissolving into a nice falsetto. He sounds a bit strained when he goes for notes lower than his normal register, but it only adds more emotion to the song, and Jongdae has to ball his fists even more until he can feel his nails digging into his skin, until the singer hits a high note and does a run until he reaches a more comfortable note in his range.

The soft tone — the singer's light humming — comes back on, providing accompaniment as he sings the last few lines, then fades out as he claps, the ending bouncing off the walls of the club.

Complete silence, then Jongdae slowly stands from his seat, bringing his hands together in applause. The singer looks up at him, eyes wide. The twitch of the eye is funny, makes him look like a completely different person from the man who'd just finished performing a song, finished singing _and_ crafting the instrumentals for the song _on stage._ He holds the gaze, grins despite his lips quivering, and from the corner of his eye he can see Jonghyun approaching — either him or the bar, but he can't be bothered to tear his gaze from the scene right now — the patrons in front giving the singer a standing ovation, Jongdae's tiny figure in the distance swallowed by the crowd.

"Dibs," Jongdae mutters even before Jonghyun can say anything, and Jonghyun lets his hand fall to his side.

"Johnnie Walker," Jonghyun then says to the bartender and takes the seat beside Jongdae's, sitting with him in companionable silence as they wait for the drink and for the next song.

 

The set runs for a little under forty-five minutes, all acoustic despite the heavy percussion-like beats that the singer creates with his guitar. Jonghyun excuses himself to rejoin the group around three songs into the set and reminds Jongdae to get the group an extra round. "Payment for being selfish and staying glued to your seat while we laugh at you up there," he adds, but winks before turning on his heel and whispers, "Let me know how it goes." Jonghyun disappears with the bottle of whiskey, and Jongdae orders gin tonic for himself, sipping slowly as he savors each and every note slipping from the performer's lips.

A standing ovation punctuates the end of the performance, the crowd clapping endlessly as the performer bows to everyone — the patrons, the staff, the next set of performers at the foot of the stage, even his fancy microphone on an electric green mic stand. Jongdae gulps down the last of his drink, weaving his way through the crowd as he waits for the singer to get off-stage.

"That was some performance there," Jongdae says, faint enough so he doesn't draw unwanted attention to himself, but loud enough for the singer to hear. "Suho, am I right? I'm sure you mentioned your name somewhere along the way."

"Ah." The singer laughs a little, a small yelp escaping his lips as he nearly misses a step. Jongdae moves to his side, reflexes quick as he fastens his hands on the singer's arm. "You have superior hearing, then. I couldn't even hear myself above my heartbeat," he replies, and even in the dim light Jongdae can see the faintest smile lighting the corner of his lips.

"Never thought I'd see a loop pedal again," Jongdae comments, eyeing the box-like machine at the edge of the stage. He can hear Suho more clearly now, despite the crowd applauding as the next band gets on stage and introduces themselves. "I mean, people are either too lazy to use it or—"

"Too young to know how to make it work," Suho finishes. Jongdae feels cold fingers wound around his wrist — he's being dragged to the side, farther from the stage and closer to a quieter place. "I'm glad to meet someone who actually knows what a loop pedal is."

"Well, I have been—" Jongdae swallows, chuckling as he pauses. "I'm sorry, I haven't introduced myself yet. I'm—"

"Kim Jongdae, stage name _J.D.,_ " Suho finishes. There's a perfunctory smile on his lips, but it reaches to the corners of his eyes, highlighting the crinkles. Whatever's beyond the soft catch light on his eyes disappears behind his bangs, and Jongdae tries not to furrow his eyebrows when he sees the middle part. "Balladeer, one of the _esteemed coaches_ of The Voice of Korea. Kim Jonghyun's biggest nemesis—"

"I think you mean _kismesis,_ " Jongdae interrupts. He can feel laughter bubbling on his lips. Standard idol practice tells him to hide his laughter behind his hand or will all control to come rushing back to the muscles of his face, but Suho's finding it harder to keep it together, the once tiny smile on his lips now spreading across the pink flesh, tugging up too hard at the corners. His teeth are bright, too white, and for a brief moment Jongdae's concerned about how it can blind people when the stage lights hit Suho's smile. "There _are_ days when I don't hate him as much, though."

"Such as now," Suho mentions, then gestures towards the second floor, at the group of people at the table near the railing — Jonghyun's laughter can cut through the music of the band if he wanted to. "I… take it you're with them? I shouldn't be keeping you, then—"

"Ah, no, that's fine. I'm actually—" Jongdae scrunches his nose, brushing the tip with the back of his hand. "How would you like to join The Voice of Korea for season four?"

The warmth in Suho's features quickly turns into shock, a quarter of Suho's bright eyes disappearing behind his blond hair. His lips are poised in a small 'o', and Jongdae can see the veins running along Suho's neck. "Is this a scam?" is the first thing he says; the second, "I'm sorry, I know it's not but— _Me?_ "

"You've got—" _A peculiar tone, one so unique I had to stay down here the entire set and leave my friends up there at the risk of Baekhyun showing incriminating pictures of me to Jonghyun; worse, Boa._ "An interesting voice," Jongdae finally says. His throat feels so dry and empty; he should do it a favor and not take shots as soon as he gets up there, maybe stop by the bar to grab a Long Island? "And your style is really unique. I don't think anyone—"

"Uses loop pedals these days, yeah." Joonmyun laughs a little. The evidence of strain on his neck is gone, and his cheeks are a soft shade of pink — Jongdae can feel the muscles in his shoulders relaxing. "I'll… think about it, is that okay? I don't know how to feel about strangers approaching me, asking me to join a televised singing competition."

Jongdae snorts, then quickly winces as the thought of keeping appearances nags at him again. "Two things, Suho — you just told me you knew me, and you're worrying about being televised but you have no qualms performing in Blue Moon?"

"I… am a bit weird, yes," Suho admits. "I'll need a better backstory than that if I want to get past the initial auditions, though."

Jongdae takes a deep breath, all recalibrated now — hands in his pockets, the crazy grin on his lips now tame in a close-lipped smile. "I can help you with that, too, if you let me," Jongdae says, then fishes for his wallet, taking out a calling card. "Give me a call. And please don't give away my card; that's actually my personal line right there."

"No secretaries for the big shot?" Suho scoffs, but Jongdae can still hear the hint of amusement in the tone — he's always been good at picking sounds apart, dissecting each and every one of them. Suho's high notes sound much better than the low ones. "I'm sorry, I'm probably getting too friendly… Thank you, Kim Jongdae-ssi. I'll definitely give this some thought."

Jongdae waves a hand dismissively. "Just Jongdae is fine. Jongdae-hyung, I mean." He scratches the back of his neck. "I just keep assuming everyone's younger than me."

"Comes with age," Suho teases, winking as he ends. "And I'm fresh off of college so…" His voice drifts off, gaining cadence as he looks up again, meeting Jongdae in the eye. "Call me Joonmyun, please," he continues, holding out his hand. His palm is small, but his fingers are long and slender. His nails have grown out; maybe he's long outgrown the piano but, Jongdae thinks — no, _hears_ — his voice can go well with the slightly heavier beats. "Kim Joonmyun. Suho's actually… a really bad stage name."

"We can add that bit to your backstory, too," Jongdae comments. He can feel laughter clawing at his throat again. "So, Joonmyun, I'll hear from you? Where's your next gig?"

"If you're as good with voices as you say you are, then you'll find me." Suho — _Joonmyun_ — fishes his phone from his pocket, keying in a series of numbers that Jongdae only figures is his mobile number when he feels his phone buzzing in his pants. "I'll see you around, hyu— Can I just call you sonsaengnim? I'm sorry, I'm just… I mean you might be my coach someday and I'm just an aspiring contestant and— Yeah."

"You can call me anything you want."

"Well then, _sonsaengnim—_ " Joonmyun gives him a curt nod, "If you don't mind, I'll get ass drunk now and be an irresponsible kid for once."

Jongdae watches Joonmyun turn on his heel, his soft laughter ringing his ears long after Joonmyun has left, disappearing into the darkness.

Jongdae takes one long look at the number on his phone, saving it as _Kim Suho_ , then slips it back in his pocket. Joonmyun isn't at the bar when Jongdae gets there to order another round of tequila shots, but he can still hear Joonmyun's voice, each lilt, each low and high note, in his ears, sending shivers down his spine.

 

 

Jongdae wakes up with a tiny jerk of the body, his phone pressed close to his cheek as the alarm sounds off.

It takes roughly a minute to register that no alarm ever goes off for more than a minute, and in an obnoxious tone, no less. _Jonghyun,_ a voice at the back of his mind says, more out of habit than out of spite, but Jongdae's sense of justice has never cooperated with him at such an early hour. "What do you want?" he says into the receiver once he finally figures out how to pick up the call, completely ignoring the name flashing on the screen even before drawing his phone close to his ear. "Hello? Is this pizza delivery."

"A gentle reminder that you have a breakfast appointment with the best person in existence," the voice on the other end of the line says. It sounds more human than robotic, and a lot less lethargic. "Get up, Jongdae. You promised to get coffee with me at nine."

He checks the display, _Byunbaek_ flashing at him in big, bright characters. Jonghyun's never completely inebriated to mess with his life; he'd take a stab at messing with Jonghyun's phone, but then Taeyeon had called him a kid when he almost did it (Boa said he was a genius; he's actually somewhere in between). "When will you ever learn that coffee isn't my hangover drink?" he asks now, dragging his ass off the bed, pajama bottoms catching on his toes as he gets back on his feet.

"Yeah, like I'll ever not try to get you out of your bed early." Some static in the background, then, "InBus in an hour?"

"You live in _Banpo._ The cafe's almost just around the corner for you." Jongdae frowns then cracks his neck, his right hand steadily pressing phone against his cheek. "Will you be styling your hair for thirty minutes or something? It's just me."

Baekhyun laughs on the other end, voice cracking as it drifts off. He's probably been awake for thirty minutes, at most, but he needs twenty more to ease his voice into a more familiar, more velvety tone. Baekhyun knows better than to damage his vocal chords, better than most people, but then Baekhyun has never been the type to be too mindful of rules. "I'm meeting up with Sunyoung after breakfast," Baekhyun says now. Jongdae can hear him sticking out his tongue. "I love it when you wear those tight jeans, by the way. It creates an illusion that you actually have an ass… Bye!"

A loud, shrill beep, and Baekhyun's voice disappears from the other end of the line. Joonmyun's soft voice come in, a quick burst of sound that disappears just as soon as it comes. He can still hear light humming in the air, though.

Life as an idol normally entails getting up early — five in the morning, sometimes even earlier if there's a shoot or if comeback's drawing nearer — and being at your very best behavior from an ungodly hour in the morning until the whee hours of the evening. Jongdae has long accepted that, the routine of idol life, having spent more than a decade following the same pattern day in and day out like a prayer he says everyday. Now that he's thrust into the sudden change in 'schedule', the freedom to wake up later than the usual and to actually have breakfast in a coffee shop instead of grabbing fast food take-out on his way to the company, it tips him off the scale, nearly sends him down on his knees, face dangerously close to the carpet.

He looks at himself in the mirror and laughs at the dark circles under his eyes. "No, Jongdae, you can't YOLO the shit out of your face. You have to put on make-up," he tells the figure in the mirror, then quickly slips out of his pajamas and the rest of his clothes, the dirty clothing finding themselves a home just outside the bathroom. He turns on the shower and closes his eyes, and then there it is again — the stage lights washing out Joonmyun, drowning out his white top and blond hair and pale skin in a stream of light. The only thing that's left of Joonmyun is his voice, the same one that starts out soft, maybe a bit weak, but ends with a powerful high note.

Jongdae turns the knob, making the water crash down on him harder. The force pricks his skin, but the collision of water on tiles does very little to drown out Joonmyun's soft singing in his head.

Caffe InBus is a little less than an hour's drive from his house. He parks somewhere near the subway station, the only one with available parking space. and passes Exit 9, walking straight ahead until he can see the large sign up front. Through the glassm he can already make out Baekhyun's figure near the _big autobot-looking machine,_ as he and Baekhyun have always called it. The security guard addresses him, telling him that Baekhyun's waiting at their usual table, and he waves at Baekhyun as soon as their eyes meet.

"You really didn't comb your hair," Jongdae comments, scrunching his nose as Baekhyun leans in, almost shoving his hair into Jongdae's face. "Did you even wash it?"

"Of course, I did. And I call this the _disheveled look_ ; I'll make it a hit in thirty minutes, just you wait and see."

Jongdae takes the seat to opposite Baekhyun, the one not facing the windows, like falling back into old habit. Jongdae always tells anyone who asks that his eyes are light sensitive but really, he just doesn't like people watching him while he eats.

"I got you your salmon thing, by the way, because you ordered Eggs Benedict the last time we were here," Baekhyun mentions, laying his phone down on the table, back cover on top. "And I called dibs on Eggs Ben after that."

"You call dibs on everything."

"Not on the kid you found last night, I didn't." There's a grin on Baekhyun's lips, one Jongdae hasn't seen in a while. Despite having to work alongside each other during recordings for The Voice, they've never managed to do some catching up between shoots or commercial gaps, or even during breaks where there's nothing but the expanse of space between them (and the other teams, and the rest of the world). "You saw a lot of potential in him, huh?"

"He's…" Interesting, to say the very least. His voice keeps popping up in Jongdae's mind, like flashes of light in a movie sequence where one character almost gets into a car accident. He'd heard Joonmyun's voice again earlier, while brushing his teeth, and for a brief moment he was concerned that Joonmyun probably wasn't drunk enough to not catch the stench of too much alcohol in Jongdae's mouth when they talked after the performance. And then again, just before Jongdae turned the corner, the particularly high note making Jongdae stop in his tracks and look to his left _and_ his right before taking quick steps to his destination. So much for _YOLOing the shit out of life_. "He's alright."

"Good enough to catch your attention," Baekhyun replies. He smiles at the waitress when two glasses of water are set in front of them. "I like the loop pedal thing going on. Haven't seen one since, when was that, the season when Jinki won?"

"Season one," Jongdae answers, rolling his eyes as he leans back into his seat. "Same season as Kyungsoo's." He drums his fingers on the table, the tips of his fingers grazing his glass. "The tall guy, yeah? I think he was Taeng-noona's kid. She kept pleading him to get a haircut."

Baekhyun gives him a long look, eyebrows still as he tilts his head. It takes a while before Baekhyun resurfaces, a familiar glint in his eyes, and the coffee soon arrives — Baekhyun has finally graduated from overly sweet coffee to something that at least won't send his blood sugar levels shooting up if even he drinks it on a daily basis. "On a scale of one to Kyungsoo, then, how good is he?" Baekhyun asks now, leaning on his palm, cheek to hand as his speech gets slightly muffled.

"How can Kyungsoo even be—" A waitress approaches them, Baekhyun's Eggs Benedict glimmering under the warm lighting like it's been lifted from a magazine spread. Jongdae salmon _something_ is soon placed in front of him, and he smiles at the lady, thanking her before she leaves. "But on a scale of one to Jonghyun, you're _Jonghyun-point-five_ points annoying."

Baekhyun laughs a little, tight-lipped, and simply shakes his head. Jongdae fishes for his phone from his pocket — the notification for Joonmyun's missed call is still in the dock. "I got you a lime refresher, by the way," Baekhyun says after a while. His eyes are fixed on his food now, no longer studying the quirks of Jongdae's face. "Biggest size, so we can split."

Jongdae grins. He can feel the pressure at the corners of his lips, like his face is being ripped open. "You're nursing a hangover. That's why you asked me to come here, you're—"

"Old," Baekhyun mumbles. "Also, your phone light's flashing." Baekhyun points an accusing finger and the phone, squinting hard and leaning in like there's a secret to be divulged. "It's blue, so it must be a text message." He sneers. "Who's the victim now?"

Jongdae quickly picks up his phone, thankful that the notification is of an email and not a text — word on one of the songs he composed for Taeyeon. He should really disconnect his company email from his phone's email application. He navigates to the messages, smiling a little when he see an unfinished message — _hi jmoonyun this jongdae, great performans last night, wud luv 2 see it agen._ A quick glance at Baekhyun, then he brings his gaze back to the message in front of him, moving his shoulders forward and tucking his chin. He erases the message, typing up a better one that's void of tragic misspellings, and lays his phone face down on the table.

Baekhyun's chuckling now, his eyes squinted just a little. "You're doing that thing again, the Squirtle thing."

" _Please._ I am so past that stage." Jongdae places a table napkin on top of his phone, then scores across the strip of salmon, two more times until he gets a nice, clean cut. "I evolved two years ago."

"Better double-check your pockets. I think you've got an Everstone there or something," Baekhyun teases. There's something yellow on the left corner of his lips, and Jongdae leans forward on instinct, reaching over to brush it off with his thumb.

"You should stop doing that, you know," Baekhyun mumbles. "I'm getting married in two months, what are people going to think?"

Jongdae snickers, but he sinks back in his seat, wiping his thumb on the table napkin under his plate. "You're marrying Sunyoung because she's the only girl who can stand your endless chattering," he says after a while, after slicing his bread in half.

He glances at Baekhyun's plate — the egg yolk's _everywhere_ , but if he quints hard enough he'll see patterns, like Baekhyun's been drawing on the plate with the mess he's made. Thirty-eight and there still isn't a semblance of order in Baekhyun's system, no logic behind his actions. The day he met Sunyoung, he'd immediately said he'd fallen in love; the year after, he was already planning to propose to her. _Some things just… feel right, you know what I mean?_ Baekhyun had said one time, thumb running along the band of the ring he'd picked out — a gold ring with diamond in the middle, about the size of his pinky nail. Or maybe bigger, since Baekhyun rarely trimmed his nails. _And when that feeling keeps nagging you, if it won't let you go… well, then, you should probably hold onto it._

"I'm marrying her because—" Baekhyun trails off, bottom lip caught between his teeth. He sticks out his tongue, like the rest of the message is there, scrawled on his skin, and Jongdae just shrugs. "You'll still be best man, yeah? No excuses this time since preparations for your comeback won't be until—"

"Next year. Or never. I don't know yet." Jongdae pops a thin slice of salmon between his lips. "I'm writing something for Boa-noona, though, after I polish the track for Taeng-noona."

Baekhyun snorts. "Lemme guess — it's not _SMP_ enough."

Jongdae cackles, then quickly hides his laughter behind his cup of coffee — a bad decision, really, because having control over his hands is not a talent of his at this time of the day. The hot surfaces catches on his lips, and he scowls as he takes a sip, slow and careful. "I should change my motto to Y.O.R.O. — you only revise once," he says once the stinging sensation has disappeared. "This one's really minor, though. I just have to clean up the last bit, lower the levels of the percussion so that Taeng-noona's voice doesn't get drowned out."

Baekhyun makes this weird sort of face at him that makes him terribly unattractive, despite the glimmer in his eyes. "YOLO's so last year. Get rid of that, _I mean it._

Jongdae only shrugs as he stirs his coffee. The reflection of his hand quivers as he repeats the circular motion.

The rest of the conversation dissolves into Baekhyun reminding Jongdae about being in charge of the bachelor's party, and making sure that Jinri doesn't add more people to the guest list. "The job of the best man is to make sure that the maid of honor doesn't go ballistic," Baekhyun even tells him, and he just laughs, more because of Baekhyun _actually_ feeling nervous about the whole thing than anything else. "And if she drives Sunyoung crazy, Sunyoung will get cranky. And if she gets cranky—"

"So will you," Jongdae finishes. He takes the last piece of food on his plate, slipping it between his lips as he bites the tips of the fork, slowly pulling out the utensil. "Which means I'll suffer, as well."

"You know me too well," Baekhyun confesses, laughing lightly as he does so. "But you like the chaos. You like the noise," Baekhyun says, almost snorting. Some of his food catches on his bottom lip; Jongdae sits on his hands to keep himself from reaching over.

When Jongdae asked for a break from the management, he meant to fly overseas, take a tour around Europe, maybe. He wanted to be alone and away from people who knew him, people who _thought_ they knew him. _I just want to unwind, detoxify or something,_ he'd said then; he didn't mean, _I have to take care of my best friend's wedding, do something a grown up would normally do._ Fast forward to the end of The Voice season and here he is, trying to make sense of his best friend's new life when he can't even organize his.

Maybe he should label points in his life using Post-its; then, everything will be easier, and the road to wherever he really wants to be will be an easier trek.

Joonmyun's soft humming suddenly rings in his ears and he looks around, searching for the source of the sound. He ends up with nothing — the pipe in music is of some French song he won't even try to understand, and Baekhyun's unusually silent, words tripping over his own breath as he takes a sip of his drink, eyes fixed on Jongdae — or maybe whatever's over Jongdae's shoulder.

Jongdae's phone gives off a short beep, then another. He looks at it for a while then flicks off the table napkin. He can feel the light upward tug of his lips, can feel Baekhyun's gaze still heavy on him, unrelenting, as he reads the message on his phone — _hi sonsaengnim! i'll be at zzyzx tonight, 10pm. i guess i'll see you around?_ then, _shit you were supposed to look for me, weren't you._ He cracks his neck, typing up a message as quick as his fingers can move across the screen — _better luck next time, kid. i'll c u_ — and leaves the display on long after the message has been sent.

Baekhyun's eyes haven't left Jongdae's phone, and Jongdae counts until the display turns to black — three, two, one—

And another message comes in.

 

 

They split up at Exit 9, with Baekhyun taking the subway to Hongdae to surprise Sunyoung in the _hagwon_ she owns. Jongdae had warned him that Sunyoung might not like it, saying, "She might even kick you in the balls," but trust Baekhyun to not think of the repercussions of a sweet gesture that he knows Sunyoung will openly express disdain for, albeit teasingly (she'll love it just the same, though; she'll let him know when they get home). "Try to get of your place and your office more often!" Baekhyun calls out to him before taking the stairs, and Jongdae waves him off with his hand, walking straight ahead and to the parking lot.

He can still recall the first few years of his career, hastily walking down the streets of Gangnam in the morning with Baekhyun pressed to his side, arms locked. "Inseparable," music critics have called them, and if they weren't working in the same company and Baekhyun hadn't damaged his vocal chords eight years into his career, they'd probably still be performing at Kim Jungeun's _Chocolate_ or at one of Shin Dongyup's shows. Or maybe they'd be talking about their earlier years as an idol on the radio; Ryeowook's always generous with giving them spots as guests in _Kiss the Radio_.

Now Baekhyun has Sunyoung, and Jongdae has too much free time in his hands.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he digs deep with one hand to take his phone out. Joonmyun's reply is _is this like the callbacks where i prove to the producers that i can actually sing before i get to the blinds?_ , and Jongdae doesn't send a text back until he's back in his car, engine roaring to life as he pushes the engine button and turns up the radio.

A Coldplay song comes up, one of Jongdae's favorites. Too slow for a voice as thin as Joonmyun's; it will probably just highlight the holes in Joonmyun's tone. This will sound better in Kyungsoo's tone, or maybe Baekhyun's if he was still in the business of singing. Jongdae shakes his head, but Joonmyun's tiny voice remains somewhere in the melody.

He finally types up a reply, saying, _pretty much. and i'll give you an objective assessment if you promise not to drink right after your performance._

_wow sonsaengnim, you're strict,_ comes Joonmyun's reply. _i look forward to it c: see you later! gotta work now_

Jongdae drops his phone on the passenger seat and drives to the company. He makes sure the covers are all up; morning drives are best with music blasting in the car, some of the beats soaring above the noise of honking cars just beyond the window.

He heads straight to studio nine when he arrives to meet with Taeyeon and one of the music directors, and they discuss the things that need to be done for the last track, the one Jongdae had composed specifically for Taeyeon. The formal conversation on music and lyrics stretches past an hour, another thirty minutes, and Jongdae ignores the soft buzzes of his phone in his pocket, a weird harmony of Baekhyun, Kyungsoo, and Joonmyun's voices in his brain.

 

 

There isn't much to distract Jongdae from his work in the afternoon. Taeyeon excuses herself right after the meeting — it's almost three when they finish, and she has _a thing with Jonghyun_ that Jongdae very well knows is their daily coffee break. Jongdae stays in the studio long after the meeting has ended, saying that he has a couple of tracks to work on. _Bullshit,_ he tells himself as he mindlessly plays something on Audition — Jonghyun won't be releasing any new material in the next few months, and Boa certainly won't enlist help from him on her choreography for her upcoming worldwide tour. There's nothing to be done.

He contemplates on texting Baekhyun for a while, but then Baekhyun's probably out doing _groom stuff_ with Sunyoung. Jinri's not exactly the type of company he'd like to have on a sullen afternoon, either. He hits the keys too hard, the dissonance making him himself away from the table. There's the faint sound of Joonmyun's voice again — still singing the same song, the one that had caught Jongdae's attention back in Blue Moon. With a deep breath, Jongdae tries to play the same melody, one octave higher so that it suits Joonmyun's voice better. Maybe if Joonmyun hears the song in this pitch, he won't strain his vocals as much anymore, and his speaking voice won't be as scratchy right after a performance.

After a few test runs, Jongdae hits the record button and starts playing.

 

 

Jongdae wakes up in the studio with a throbbing pain in his cheek and something that _feels_ a lot like keyboard imprints on his skin. He glances at the clock of his laptop — 8 p.m., still too much time until he has to be in the club to catch Joonmyun's performance. He stands from his seat, anyway, packing his laptop and heading out of the studio. His hair sticks to his forehead, and he brushes his bangs away with the back of his hand, automatically smiling when a few trainees greet him in the hallway.

He shakes his free arm on his way out to his parking space. Sometimes he can't tell which skin he's wearing, if he's wearing anything at all.

Seeing a gig at ZZYZX means standing with at least fifty more people in an open space, not a table or chair in sight. It's more convenient to watch from the second floor where there's nothing to obstruct the view, but Jongdae always prefers doing things the hard way and making eye contact with the performer. He weaves through the slowly thickening crowd, berating himself a little at his choice of clothes — he'd dropped by his place earlier to leave his laptop and to change into clothes more befitting of the place. The patrons of ZZYZX are more fashion-conscious than most, after all, and a muscle shirt plus bright yellow pants simply won't make the cut.

He isn't sure if Joonmyun's actually going up first, but he secures himself a good enough view from just beyond the barrier, hands on the railing as people pass behind him, elbows digging into his back. Not getting a drink at once was a wise decision; he doesn't want to waste money on a drink that can potentially get knocked off his hands a minute into the set.

The spotlight goes out abruptly, and the blue light all around him dims. Jongdae's vision isn't the clearest, but he can identify the figure in the dark slowly making its way up the stairs. The lighting's soft enough to not wash Joonmyun out this time, and the blue hue kind of makes his hair sparkle. _Fairies and their magic dust,_ a voice at the back of his mind says, and he leans forward, resting his chin on his hands.

Joonmyun spots him not too long after and gives him a curt nod. He's dressed not much differently today — he's wearing a patterned blazer, and there's still the classic white polo underneath. His legs look much longer in his dark, skin-tight jeans, and he's wearing bright red rubber shoes. If this is Joonmyun's definition of fashion, then he and Jongdae have to talk about that, too; Jonghyun had always said that it was the ultimate weakness of Jongdae's team, the lack of good taste in matching fashion pieces.

He unbuttons his polo — two buttons, where it's much easier to breathe and not feel his chest pop out. Joonmyun strums his guitar a few times, an odd sort of harmony in the way he tunes his guitar. "I call this the _Tuning Song,_ " he says into the mic, eyes fixed on Jongdae as he does so. The crowd erupts into collective laughter — some light, some a bit louder than the usual. It's a nice melody, one that soothes the muscles of Jongdae's shoulders.

A pluck, a long strum, then another pluck. The spotlight intensifies, and Jongdae sees Joonmyun squinting. Joonmyun combs through his hair before getting his hands back on the guitar then starts plucking, only lightly at first.

Joonmyun starts with a series of soft plucking this time, adding another layer after eight counts, one heavier than the previous. Jongdae can't help but be drawn to Joonmyun's fingers, long and slender, and their little movements, even smaller than Joonmyun's frame. Jongdae blinks a few times at the sound of Joonmyun tapping his guitar lightly and, after another eight counts, Joonmyun's voice finally comes in.

He sounds different tonight — softer, more vulnerable. Joonmyun didn't play this song last night, and Jongdae's only half-thankful that he hasn't; the other half of him is still stuck in the intro, where Joonmyun's voice hasn't come in yet. The song is soft, and Joonmyun's voice sounds so tender and soulful when the song hits the chorus. The sound of the instruments fades under just a little, making Joonmyun's voice stand out all the more. The sweet, honeyed tone slips from his lips as he tilts his head, lips too close now to the microphone. _Keep six inches between your lips and mic,_ Jongdae can hear a voice at the back of his mind say, but Joonmyun's voice soars high above any other sound at the moment, and Jongdae really can't be bothered to tear his attention from Joonmyun — standing still, singing in the pitch he's most comfortable in, hitting each and every single note perfectly.

Then there's the regular strumming again. Joonmyun's tapping his foot. Jongdae is, too, despite the lack of space. He scowls when he almost jams his foot into the tiny platform separating the stage from the railing.

His mind drifts into a memory of Hongdae, one fine day at _Bbang_ , an image of a small Joonmyun being swallowed by the intimidating presence of a piano larger than him, a Joonmyun singing one Vienna Teng song after another. Joonmyun has grown — if he sang _Shine_ or _Harbor_ now, he'd probably sound better. _But stick to the guitar,_ another voice in Jongdae's mind says. _Percussion will drown out your voice; the strings will help you bring out your voice more._

Joonmyun hits a particularly difficult note for the bridge, one that Jongdae can't even imagine himself singing because maintaining that tone will make him sound whiny, scratchy. Joonmyun seems unfazed, though, pressing on with the song with his eyes open, eyebrows furrowed. His eyes are far more expressive that they should be, and he looks a bit funny with that worried look on his face that goes completely off-track from the message of the song. There's a long note somewhere towards the end of the bridge, just before the chorus, a run where Joonmyun does four key changes — all high ones, notes that bring out the real power of his voice. His voice trails off just in time for the guitar to come in, but only for a while — Joonmyun goes on without the instrumentals for a while, and the guitar comes in again only halfway through the last chorus.

Joonmyun ends with a soft _you are the only one,_ pulling away from the microphone as he plays the last few notes of the song.

The crowd erupts into cheers, some even into shrill whistles that almost startle Joonmyun, now wide-eyed, a grin stretched across his lips. His blazer looks too big on him from where Jongdae is, but then the stage is so much bigger here than it was in Blue Moon. If Joonmyun could just shine a bit more, then he'd be a better fit on stage. Or maybe he just needs to lose the light clothing and go for all black; at least, then, Jongdae won't have to squint too hard to see him.

A band comes to join Joonmyun for five songs, and Joonmyun has to draw the microphone way too close to his lips when he sings. The crowd's clapping harder now, in the air, some bottles and glasses of alcohol raised as if in one big toast. Jongdae follows suit, an imaginary glass in the air, and he catches sight of Joonmyun looking at him silly. He makes a mental note to tell Joonmyun to never lose his focus — _don't let anything distract you, not even my beautiful face._

He takes note of the veins along Joonmyun's neck, the ones that reach to the underside of his jaw. The furrow of Joonmyun's eyebrows is a constant presence; what concerns Jongdae more at the moment is the way Joonmyun's left hand shakes as it rests on his guitar.

Joonmyun manages to pull off an Alex Vargas song at the very end, performing a more solemn rendition of _Wasteland_. The loop pedal to Joonmyun's right finally sees its screentime after being cast aside for too long, and the crowd immediately cheers when Joonmyun wraps his hand around the green mic stand. There's the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of Joonmyun's lips, more relaxed despite Joonmyun squinting hard. There's a patch of red on his neck, then his arms — Jongdae knows how that feels, being under public scrutiny for extended periods of time. He knows the way red light stings the skin after being exposed to it for too long.

He kind of misses it.

The set wraps up in under an hour, and the crowd is as generous with cheers as ever — even the patrons at the second floor are clapping. Someone throws something that looks like a square piece of paper at Joonmyun's feet, and then there are a couple of cards, and Joonmyun just laughs, teeth bared and glinting in the harsh stage lights. He slips from the spotlight after a while, when the applause dies down, and Jongdae waves at Joonmyun, thumb pointing back at the bar as he mouths, _I'm getting crushed here; I'll see you in the back._

Jongdae's already about a quarter into his drink when Joonmyun resurfaces, beads of sweat rolling down the outline of his face. His hair sticks to his forehead, and his make-up has caught on the collar of his polo. "You really have to do something about this." Jongdae leans in tentatively, patting the tuft of hair, and Joonmyun only laughs lightly in response.

"You said no alcohol 'til we get the assessment done, sonsaengnim," Joonmyun says. Jongdae gestures for the bartender to come closer, and Joonmyun keeps his eyes fixed on Jongdae, like he's looking for something that Jongdae has sworn not to surrender. "How was it?"

"Give him a gin tonic," Jongdae whisper to the bartender. He bites the inside of his cheek when he turns to Joonmyun whose gaze is more scrutinizing that ever. He can feel his face go hot, but his tolerance has never been this bad. There's a pause, then he feels his stomach grumbling. _There's the culprit._ "I liked last night's set better, song selection-wise, but you sound much more relaxed with the songs you've picked for the performance."

"Ah." Joonmyun shifts in his seat, moving closer. His knees bump into Jongdae's, and he mumbles a small apology before continuining, "It's a set I've been performing for a while now. Kind of like my fallback for when I'm not able to prepare."

"There's nothing wrong with having choice safe songs," Jongdae replies, taking a long sip of his drink. He holds his glass by the mouth, tilting it so that the liquid swirls. The ice has almost melted. It's not as cold as it should be in this part of the club, but then it's the middle of summer — just shifting in his seat makes him sweat. "I really loved the last one, by the way. Never thought an Alex Vargas song would have sounded good in your tone."

Joonmyun chuckles, but abruptly gets cut when his drink arrives. He gives the bartender a curt now and takes a long sip — it's been at least fifteen minutes since he's last sung a song, so Jongdae shouldn't be thinking of grabbing Joonmyun by the wrist and making him set his glass down on the counter. "I know that's supposed to be a compliment, but I can't help but think otherwise."

Jongdae laughs a little. "Your voice doesn't have that… natural gravel to it, but you still sang the song really well. So!" He raises his glass, tilting it a little in Joonmyun's direction. "Let's drink to that?"

Joonmyun follows suit. The clinks of their glasses are a nice break from the heavy beats a few meters away.

"I really hate noisy places," Joonmyun says after a while, his voice dissolving into the soft sound of bubbles popping as he takes a sip of his drink. Jongdae gives him a long look. He's pegged Joonmyun as the type who can live with a lot of things he doesn't quite feel comfortable with — standing on stage in front of a lof of people, all eyes on him as he builds a song in front of everyone. A blazer a bit too big on him, tapering off the shoulders, making him looking like a student lost in a club in Gangnam. The way he winces a little everytime he takes a sip of his gin tonic. Joonmyun hasn't spoken about the drink yet, not in the ten minutes that he's been drinking it, so Jongdae just lets him down the alcohol, one sip after another, until Joonmyun chugs down the rest of it in one big gulp.

"I like being in noisy places sometimes," Jongdae replies, then pushes the drink menu in Joonmyun's direction. "Pick anything. Reward for doing well tonight."

"I was beginning to think you'd confined me to drinking just gin tonic tonight." Joonmyun runs his finger along the list, a small smile on his lips as his eyes move up and down. Up close, with just a few inches between them, Joonmyun looks a bit taller than before. His bangs fall over his eyes, and Jongdae has to to cock his head to get the slightest glimpse of Joonmyun's eyes. "I'll go with a classic. Whiskey on the rocks?"

Jongdae looks over his shoulder, flashing one thumb up as he says, "I'll have whatever he's having." He straightens his spine when he turns back to Joonmyun who has now found something interesting on the menu, chuckling at whatever he's pointing. "What are you—"

" _Can you please give me a blowjob?_ " Joonmyun says in a tiny, tiny voice, almost so screechy that it makes Jongdae wince. "I'm sorry, I'm being childish. This just—" Choked laughter, then Joonmyun presses the back of his hand to his lips. "It gets me all the fucking time."

Jongdae waits for Joonmyun to realize that he has just cursed in front of someone who's at least a decade older than him, waits for a bright pink flush to crawl up Joonmyun's neck, painting his face, then reach up to the tips of his ears as he giggles until he catches his breath again, but to no avail — Joonmyun isn't drunk, just a bit giggly. Maybe he's high on the rush of performing on stage, the sound of people's collective cheering intoxicating him. Maybe it's the gin tonic talking, but then Joonmyun has been doing gigs for a while already; he should be holding his alcohol better now. But then Jongdae barely knows anything about Joonmyun beyond his soft singing voice and melodious speaking tone, his bright blond hair that washes him out and shields his eyes from the public, from Jongdae's own.

"Let's get a blowjob after this, then?" Jongdae teases, and Joonmyun's laughter takes a sharp rise, then an equally abrupt dip as he covers his mouth with his hand. His shoulders are shaking and Jongdae feels that the blazer might fall off of one side at some point, or maybe Joonmyun might topple over, tiny frame not being able to hold all the laughter in, but all his thoughts dissolve into a thick blanket of white noise as Joonmyun lays a hand flat on his thigh — for balance, in agreement, or maybe just to keep himself in check, Jongdae can't tell.

 

 

The heat outside hasn't dissipated much when they leave the club, but it's easier to breathe here with all the space and the blowing winds. The rain isn't supposed to be pouring down until the end of the week, but Jongdae quite likes this — the meeting of heat and cold at two in the morning, Joonmyun's eyes fixed on every step he takes as they walk down the street, up until they reach a curb.

"I'll just take a cab from here," Joonmyun says after a while, finally looking up. The parting of his hair is all messed up, and wind plays with it all the more. Jongdae digs his hands deeper into his pockets; maybe he should be preparing his cardigans if he's going to be out until midnight more frequently. Joonmyun stretches an arm out, waving at the taxi that's fast approaching, and he looks over his shoulder taking a step closer to the edge of the curb. "Thanks for coming, sonsaengnim. Maybe next time I'll do a mix of the safe set and the not-as-safe one."

Jongdae snorts, but it sounds more like a scowl than anything else. His lips are chapped; second day in a row that he's had too much alcohol. His lips will be hating him come morning. "Just call me hyung, please. Sonsaengnim's a mouthful." He bends his knees, reaching over to give Joonmyun's hair a light pat, one that tousles his hair all the more but doesn't leave quite enough static for Joonmyun's hair to hold onto Jongdae's skin. "And try another Alex Vargas next time. How does Winter Snow sound?"

"I'll try to remember everything you're saying right now in the morning." Joonmyun ducks and slips inside the cab, looking up at Jongdae before closing the door. "But yes — thanks a lot, hyung. It feels nice to know that I'm sort of doing something right, coming from an expert."

Jongdae parts his lips, poised to speak, but the cab drives off even before he can get a word out. The opening notes of Winter Snow play in his mind, and he tries to match Joonmyun's voice with the song — he'd fast forward to the higher notes, but he can't think nor sing out of sequence today.

He locks his arms behind his back, stretching, then turns around, back in the direction that they came from. He can rethink recommending an Alex Vargas song to Joonmyun. _Tomorrow_ , he thinks, maybe even whispers loud enough for his own ears to catch, and digs his hands into his pocket, the first few chords of Joonmyun's first song playing in his ear as he walks back home.

 

 

Jongdae wakes up with a jolt, eyes opening wide as a violent breath of life fills his lungs. He looks around him, but there's nothing but an expanse of white and the scent of fresh bedsheets filling his sense. He turns over, lying on his back now, and looks around. The sun's up high already, and the wall clock reads 10:15. There's nothing but a notification for a text, a KKT message, and a software update on the top dock of his phone. The room is painfully quiet again.

He unlocks his phone, checking the notifications, and raises an eyebrow at Joonmyun's message — _home c: thanks for tonight, sonsaengnim!_ , quickly followed by a _sorry, i meant hyung. rest well! hope you won't have a hangover tomorrow c:_ Jongdae stares at the tiny smiley at the end of the message, and is suddenly grateful that he doesn't have Joonmyun on KKT — Joonmyun sounds exactly like the type of person who'd wage a sticker war against him, abusing all of the bunny stickers from different sets.

_hey, thanks for checking. i'm gud._ He hits send all too early, suddenly aware that the airconditioning's turned up way too high. He'd been so conked out the past two nights that he hadn't been getting up in the middle of the night to adjust the temperature. He can hear Taeyeon telling him, _you've been in that place for the past three years and yet you haven't discovered the right setting yet?_ It's hard to explain that a little change can be exciting at times, even with the smallest of things. And yes, even at the expense of skin suffering from the intense cold.

_*gud_  
good  
GOOD dammit 

_lol hyung. good morning. your typos are going to cost you credits. you have KKT?_

_Oh boy,_ a voice at the back of Jongdae's mind says — _voices_ , ones that sound like Boa, Taeyeon, Jonghyun, and Baekhyun harmonizing in his ear at ten in the morning. He rests his phone face down on the bed and get up, pushing down the weird sensation at the pit of his stomach. It's morning sickness, probably; he's never been a fan of the sun.

 

 

The plan is to fight the hunger until he can't anymore, because his body's found that perfect spot on his bed again that lulls him back into a thirty-minute sleep. Somewhere between a second attempt at rousing himself from sleep and actually deciding that he can't win the battle between mind and stomach, he reaches for his phone, types up whatever reply to Joonmyun, and soon he finds himself in a KKT conversation with Joonmyun.

Brunch sees him in Hongdae, the hour-long drive aggravating his hunger all the more, but he pushes this at the back of his throat, set on having his first meal at Organic and not pulling over somewhere nearer. The KKT notification tone provides an added beat to the songs playing on his radio — today, he's got Walk the Moon songs loaded, and he quietly berates the industry not giving the band a break despite the quality of material that they churn out. At one point, just as the traffic light turns red, he snatches his phone from the empty seat beside him and types in the chat window, _do you know walk the moon?_ Joonmyun replies with a plethora of exclamation points, then a much calmer message that says, _i want! i want! is still my favorite EP from them._

Jongdae may have jammed his foot into the brake in response. Even Jonghyun, whose taste in music is far more diverse than Jongdae's, has never heard of Walk the Moon.

The trip to the company is much more bearable after the good meal, and somewhere along the way, halfway through Jongdae switching to Sum 41 for something that will keep him awake throughout a drive on a warm afternoon, Joonmyun makes a passing mention of +44, but isn't able to keep it together as he goes on about seeing the band live once, in a small event in one club. _Just a one-time thing, sadly,_ Joonmyun even says, and Jongdae can almost hear the sudden dip from Joonmyun sweet high note to the low ones that put so much strain on Joonmyun's vocal chords. He flicks the turn light on, bobs his head to the music, and thinks about the way Joonmyun has looked so small last night, when Jongdae had put him in a cab.

On the radio, +44 keeps singing, _And now I can't stop thinking about it, all you people at the top don't know nothing about it._

 

 

Tonight, it's Taeyeon who drags him out of the studio and into a club without any reason. "I just need to hear something else," she'd said, and her even make-up couldn't hide the tiny pimples lined along her cheek anymore. He'd contemplated on asking why it hadn't been Jonghyun, instead, or maybe Boa — he wasn't the best person to talk to when it came to nail polish chipping off, after all, but Taeyeon's grip on his wrist was so tight, and KKT has fallen into a dry spell after Joonmyun said he had work to do, _but I'll check out rixton when i get home! promise!_ Insert a cute white sticker here with the character sticking one thumb up.

"Taking your whiskey neat? What's up?"

Taeyeon's usually the one who pushes for reserving a table for themselves whenever they hit the club, but today they're at the bar, elbows on the counter as they both swirl the liquid in their glasses. "The new song's driving me crazy. I'm not feeling it," she confesses, then pauses to take a sip. There's a sharp intake of breath before she continues, "It's not me, and I can't afford to not be me at this age. I mean—"

"Still?" Jongdae asks, but it comes out more like a question. He bumps his shoulder into Taeyeon's own when Taeyeon doesn't answer, and Taeyeon makes a small sound of protest. She leans in, anyway, but moves back to her original position, spine snapping straight like she's suddenly too aware of everything, like people might snap photos of them being a bit too chummy in a club. _Kim Jongdae and Kim Taeyeon: dating?_ is the most probable title of the news article the media can come up with. The crazy ones will call it _The Kim Jongdae and Kim Taeyeon Dating Scandal._ Jongdae puts his weight on his left arm, giving Taeyeon some space, and he sees the gradual fall of her shoulders. "You've got to talk to them about it."

"I like the track you made for me," Taeyeon says after a while, a few more sips from when she'd last spoken up. "Maybe it's because you _know_ my voice, because you actually understand how it works."

Jongdae laughs a little, tempted to reach over to ruffle her hair, but he doesn't. Instead, he grips his glass tight, takes another sip before saying, "Hey, I _have_ finished second for the past two years, haven't I?"

"If you're so good, then you should've won first place."

"I don't have Jonghyun's charms," is all that Jongdae says in reply.

"Ah. Jonghyunnie." Her shoulders slump forward. Her glass is empty now, and Jongdae gestures at the bartender to order another whiskey for himself and margarita for Taeyeon. He waits for Taeyeon to retort, but she still has her head hung low, like she's studying her nails without any light source. "There you go; at least there's something good happening in my life right now."

"Other than me paying for your drinks?" Jongdae says, meaning to tease, but Taeyeon looks up at him sharply, eyes narrowed. Taeyeon hates being treated like something so fragile and precious. Maybe that's why she and Jonghyun fit so perfectly. "'Kay. Sorry. You're treating me tonight."

"I think he's… going to pop the question soon," she says, more quietly this time, like she's talking to herself. "It makes me a bit… antsy? I don't know, it kind of feels weird. We've been running around in circles for the longest time then he finally asked me out, and then we got together and then—"

So that's why it hadn't been Jonghyun who Taeyeon had dragged out here at Heaven, why Taeyeon had ordered him to drive for a good thirty minutes and weave through Seoul's traffic at nine in the evening. "You're going to be a great wife, if that's what you're wondering." She slaps him on the arm lightly, and then harder when he continues, "What, did you want me to say you'll be a great mother? I don't know, Taeng-noona, I'm not good with consoling through words and I can't give you a bear hug right now..."

Taeyeon laughs after a while, the fullest, richest sound he's heard her let out since she had approached him earlier this evening. "You can send me one of those cute stickers in KKT."

"I don't do stickers. They ruin the order and layout of my chats."

"So that's why there's a sticker plastered on your screen right now."

"What—" He remembers placing his phone face down on the table, but somehow it's been upturned, and there's an annoyingly cute bunny sticker flashing on his screen. 6 messages have added up from when he'd last checked his phone, but he ignores them all, turning his phone over and shooting Taeyeon a stern look as he says, "You thought you'd be able to change the topic, huh?"

"Nah, your focus is _immaculate._ Your persistence is even more..." She makes large gestures with her hands, and she settles on the word _something_ when she ends up without anything. Her voice is huskier, tone low and dangerous and smooth, like the alcohol has soothed her throat and has loosened it up from when it had felt so tight. She's not looking at him anymore, eyes fixed on the shelves of bottles, instead, drumming her fingers on the table.

Jongdae shifts in his seat so that he can get a better view of Taeyeon's face. Heaven's lighting has never been the best — it's too easy to get swallowed up by the darkness once you step out of the dance floor — but he can make out the heaviness in Taeyeon's eyes when the roaming lights catch on their figures. It's not like the one he'd seen when Taeyeon had walked up to him earlier that night, but there's still a hint of it somewhere. "What, then?" he asks when Taeyeon hunches her shoulders, and she lets out a loud exhale as the rests her head on her clasped hands.

"I'm… not sure if I'm ready for this. This… the whole concept of being tied to one thing forever—" Her voice drifts off as she scratches the back of her neck like she usually does off-cam after the fifth take of a couple of spiels for The Voice. "—I think I've had enough of that with my job." She ends with a chuckle, and Jongdae's sure Taeyeon doesn't even try to lace it with amusement; they both know each other's voices way too much, each lilt and dip and sharp twist, for Jongdae to even second-guess the emotion in Taeyeon's tone.

Jongdae crosses his arms behind his head, locking his fingers as he stretches his back. "Constancy isn't so bad," he mumbles. He doesn't mean Taeyeon to catch it, but he knows she does anyway. "It's the change that disrupts it that makes everything… scary."

Taeyeon snorts a little. There's a light upward tug on the corners of her lips now. "Is it bad that I _don't_ want to imagine Jonghyunnie handling kids? I mean…" Her voice drifts off, surfacing again when she giggles. "What if he drops them? You know him — his movements are so big even if he's so small and—"

Taeyeon erupts into a peal of laughter, her voice reaching its sweetest point, and Jongdae's cackling dissolves into a smile — soft on the edges, not strained at the corners. He's taken back to five, seven years ago when they were all still feeling small in a stage so big, when Taeyeon was still part of a girl group and Jonghyun was touring Asia and was sending them pictures of the crowd from different angles, when Boa was wilder on stage and more tame at the drinking table.

When Baekhyun hadn't met Sunyoung yet, when he and Baekhyun had booked the first flight to Lord knew where as soon as Jongdae received news that he was to get a two-week break and Baekhyun was lucky enough to have gotten a break from his promoting with five other people. When it was just them — just him and Baekhyun — and he had finally gotten used to the rhythm of idol life, the presence of fans and supporters and Baekhyun constantly blabbering in text messages.

"Just… hope for the best," Jongdae says after a while, once they've caught their breaths again. He tilts his mostly empty glass in Taeyeon's direction, and she simply frowns at her empty glass, orders another round for the two of them.

Her hand is warm on his thigh. Baekhyun's hands, too, are warm — on the small of his back, on his arms, wound around his neck. Joonmyun's hand isn't as warm, but then Jongdae hasn't spent much time with him yet; there's still time to study Joonmyun. He shakes the thought away and Baekhyun's voice echoes in his mind — _I'm getting married in two months. What are people going to think?_ The bartender arrives with their drinks, and he laughs when he hears the small sound of triumph spilling from Taeyeon's lips.

"To just letting things happen?" Taeyeon tries, and Jongdae gives in to the nagging urge to ruffle Taeyeon's hair.

He raises his glass in accord. "To just letting things happen."

 

 

Taeyeon leaves a little past eleven in the evening, when Jonghyun finally convinces her that, "It's not good to get drunk when you have a 5 a.m. call time tomorrow." Taeyeon puts up a fight at first, fists balled against the rough material of Jonghyun's shirt, and Jonghyun turns to Jongdae, eyebrows furrowed in a call for help.

"Youngjin-hyung will kill you if you come in late, noona," Jongdae finally says, and Taeyeon relents, face falling forward, finding a fit in the crook of Jonghyun's neck.

_I owe you,_ Jonghyun mouths as he carefully makes Taeyeon turn around so they can walk properly, and Jongdae calls out, "I accept payment in coffee vouchers!"

He glances at the mostly filled glass in front of him and the six notifications in his phone — they've now gone up to 8. Three of them are from Jonghyun, asking if he was with Taeyeon, while two were from the company, saying that maybe Taeyeon was right, maybe she _should_ sing the track Jongdae had composed for her. The last three messages are from Joonmyun — a series of exclamation points, a sticker where some cute bunny is crying, and a chunk of text that mostly says _rixton is good. i downloaded the entire discography!_

_well aren't u a fan,_ Jongdae simply replies and, right now, without Taeyeon occupying the seat beside his, Joonmyun's presence on KKT is the only form of company he has.

 

 

The next time he hears Joonmyun sing is at Finger Lounge, a completely unassuming place in Cheongdam-dong. Joonmyun had texted him at around six in the evening, saying, _i suddenly have something at finger lounge. cheongdam, that's near your office right? feel free to come c:_ It's an open invitation, but Joonmyun might as well be _asking_ him to go — Finger Lounge is small and has a relatively calmer crowd, and it would be the perfect place to talk after a great performance.

There isn't a stage here at Finger — just a small platform that's large enough to hold three people at the same time. The club's most filled by the time Joonmyun arrives, and he manages to get himself a good enough seat in the elevated area. He starts off with wine as Joonmyun prepares his equipment.

Joonmyun looks up, catching Jongdae's gaze. He holds it for a while as he smiles, then drops his gaze back on his microphone — the one attached to the loop, this time. There's an orange band around the edge of the mic for the loop pedal now.

Joonmyun delves right into the music, as he always does, saving the introduction for around two songs into the performance. Jongdae recognizes the first song as something from Joonmyun's first set — it's not as powerful as the song he'd opened with then, that fine evening, nor is it as raw yet soulful as the first song that Joonmyun did back in ZZYZX, but then this is a different crowd — Joonmyun's music might not be their kind of music, but Jongdae can see some people bobbing their heads, smiles on their faces as they whisper to each other, fingers drumming on the small tables. A couple near his table is mouthing the lyrics; Joonmyun figures this is a song cover, but sometimes it's hard to tell with Joonmyun reinventing songs with his trusty loop pedal half the time.

He has to catch up on the new music. Having to garble his made-up lyrics while belting out the tunes of new songs was funny the first few times.

It's a short set — just a little over thirty minutes, so it can't be more than five songs. Joonmyun has a habit of stretching certain parts of songs, after all, building the melody of the song on stage, putting himself out there with a 50% chance of failure. Jongdae had done that a few times, back when he was much younger — playing the piano on the radio, the guitar for some variety shows. Half the time, his fingers were cold while playing. He couldn't feel his hands. After a while, the nervousness had dissolved into some kind of longing for something else — a change of pace, maybe? But that wasn't Jongdae's decision to make.

He takes a nice, long sip the drink, and a few minutes after the feeling leaves him, quickly washed away by the soft hiphop beats in the background. Joonmyun's mouthing something at him that he can't seem to make out, so he simply nods.

It takes faster than usual for Joonmyun to navigate through the crowd and to where Jongdae is, a drink of his own in hand as he saunters to the table. "The steps look much steeper one drink in," Joonmyun mumbles as he takes the seat beside Jongdae's, and Jongdae simply laughs as he pours himself some more wine.

"You should learn how to hold your liquor." Jongdae takes a sip of his own drink — the bottle's already half-empty, and Joonmyun looks slightly appalled. "When you're an idol, you have to have really good alcohol tolerance."

"So that's why Baekhyun has way too many shots of him getting ass drunk."

Jongdae snorts. "Baekhyun's a disaster." In a lot of ways, really. His alcohol tolerance is the most laughable thing about him, though. " _I'm_ your teacher, so _I'll_ be the one to teach you things. Yes, even how to improve your alcohol tolerance."

"Oh? Getting a little possessive?" Joonmyun's voice is just one octave higher, and Jongdae takes a deep breath as the sweet sound reaches his ears. Joonmyun's eyes are assessing, maybe even repentant, like he'd like to take back what he'd just said, and there's a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, tight around the edges. "Nah, it's just… that time of the year. I have higher tolerance when I'm not this—"

"Drained?" Jongdae gestures at the dark circles under Joonmyun's eyes. "One day, I'll teach you about applying make-up and actually coming to a gig in a good outfit. You've got to make yourself look as if you've actually prepared for this." He takes another sip and Joonmyun does, too, holding out longer than the usual. "Sometimes, it's not enough for you to reel people in with your voice."

"My voice is all I have," Joonmyun says, tone casual again. The lighting is dim enough to dissolve what might be a red flush on Joonmyun's cheeks, but the green light from below casts him a sickly glow. "So that's what I have to work on."

"Stubborn," Jongdae mumbles, then reaches over to ruffle Joonmyun's hair. "Do something about that middle part. It's horrible."

Three drinks in and the conversation finally takes its supposed route, Joonmyun asking about the performance and Jongdae commenting about how the opening number isn't as powerful as it should be. "Song choices can make or break you," he reminds Joonmyun, and Joonmyun nods at him fervently despite his heavy-lidded eyes and the lazy grin on his lips.

"I'm thinking of doing an acoustic remake of +44," Joonmyun mentions somewhere along the way — Jongdae has lost count of the number of glasses he's had, or the number of times Joonmyun has convinced him that _you're not doing anything tomorrow, anyway, so stay a little longer; you can have my drink_. Joonmyun's drinking vodka neat tonight, and Jongdae has never been much of a vodka fan but he takes it, anyway, too lazy to get up and to get himself a new drink. "It's gonna be hard, and I'm not sure if I have much time to figure out the arrangement—"

His mind temporarily goes back to the conversation with Taeyeon, about another brand of change in the form of possibly getting engaged with Jonghyun. It's nice, seeing his friends get together and _finally_ decide to get married — Baekhyun and Sunyoung, and now Jonghyun and Taeyeon. Boa's married to her career, but she's seeing someone; she'll never admit it, but everybody knows she and Jaejoong are secretly engaged. Everybody's moving on, wading through the thick blanket of noise, and Jongdae's stuck here, white noise all around him as he tries to figure out what he wants to do after The Voice.

He snorts. There's only one thing to do — sing, of course. Comeback will probably coincide with season 4, so he can promote and ride on the show's popularity. Marketing idols gets more difficult with age; you can't expect fans to stick with the same artist forever.

"I'm not sure how people will reach to an acoustic rendition of a rock song, though," Joonmyun says, and Jongdae feels a tiny jerk, enough to bring him back to the conversation.

"It has to be a couple of octaves higher so it'll suit your voice better," Jongdae replies. He pulls his shoulders back, stretching, cracking his neck as he continues, "I'll try to play around with it tomorrow. Haven't touched a guitar in _ages,_ though." He chokes on the vodka when he downs the last of it in one gulp. "Fuck, I can't— Why do I keep drinking _your_ drink? Who even drinks vodka without _anything?_ "

"Me," Joonmyun replies, cheeky, one corner of his lips tugged up. There's still a pensive look in his eyes, and his hair's way too distracting for Jongdae to try to work out the arrangement in his head. He reaches out, brushing Joonmyun's hair to the side until the middle part's gone. Joonmyun doesn't wear any gel nor clay, and his hair's soft between Jondgae's fingers. "Hyung?"

" _Never_ wear that middle part during gigs," he simply says, then retreats to his drink, scowling when he realizes that it's empty. "I'm getting whiskey for us. And _no,_ you're not allowed to say 'no' to that."

Joonmyun says something Jongdae doesn't even bother to make sense of, and Joonmyun's voice, the soft and sweet high note, carries him through until he reaches the bar, no longer as inebriated.

 

 

Jongdae stays awake long enough to remember to text Joonmyun that he's gotten home safely. _remind me to work on the +44 thing tomorrow,_ he says, then quickly corrects it as he texts _i mean later. whatever just remind me okay?_

_you should give me your passcode next time, hyung, so i can put reminders on your calendar c:_ Joonmyun replies. Jongdae laughs a little, types, _don't push it. sleep well little one_ , and sends the first sticker that resembles a smiling face that he sees in his most recently used stickers. When he slips his phone beneath his pillow, he thinks about Taeyeon and Jonghyun again, about the excitement and uncertainty in Taeyeon's eyes as she spoke about the possible engagement, about being left behind again.

He turns over so that he's lying on his back and closes his eyes. He tries to imagine Joonmyun's voice, the song he'd sung back in ZZYZX, that sweet note in the chorus. With a deep breath, he tries to clear his mind of anything but that high note, and falls into a peaceful slumber.

 

 

Jongdae doesn't exactly have the worst memory, but he does occasionally forget important things when he gets engrossed in composing — today, it's his appointment with Baekhyun, and Baekhyun snaps at him on the phone, saying, "How could you forget that we're supposed to have our tuxes fitted today?"

"Because I already have one? Jeez, man, relax." Jongdae quickly snaps his seatbelt in place, anyway, and gets the ignition started. The car roars to life, and he hears Baekhyun's loud exhale on the other end of the line. "Do you want me to talk to you while you drive to the place? I get that all the time, y'know, those fitting jitters—"

Baekhyun laughs a little. There's a thinning patience in his voice, but Jongdae knows Baekhyun can never be completely annoyed or mad at him. They've learned to live with it now, that fact, and Jongdae's the closest to home that Baekhyun can ever have after his grandmother passed away five years ago, during Chuseok. " _Jongdae._ "

"Remember when I debuted?" He's steps on the gas and the car begins to move forward. The trip up to the ground floor takes thirty seconds if he's being careful with his driving, which isn't often, but he decides to push for twenty seconds today. "I'd been stress-eating then, and the stylist-noona told me—" He clears his throat as he passes by the security guards, giving them a wave before he pulls the window up again. He uses a high voice this time, the scratchiest he can muster, one he knows can both annoy and send Baekhyun hurtling to the floor. " _Jongdae-yah, Jongdae-yah, you shouldn't be eating too many sweets. What will happen to your voice, your tummy?_ "

"Jongdae, stop. Seriously, this isn't helping."

He can hear a richer laughter bubbling on Baekhyun's lips now, though, and he imagines Baekhyun's throat loosening, Baekhyun uncurling himself from his sleeping position as he slowly, tentatively rouses, Baekhyun looking up at him, Jongdae's comforters drawn up to his bare shoulder, and saying, _good morning, gorgeous._

_Jongdae, stop._ "Long story short, I fit in my outfit," Jongdae finishes, albeit abruptly. Baekhyun already knows the story, anyway; there's no need to go back to retell old tales. "So you'll do just fine! Just don't drink frappe while waiting for me. That shit makes you feel bloated as hell."

"Well _thanks,_ best man."

There's a lump in Jongdae's throat. He wonders if he should drop by a coffee shop before heading to the tailor's; maybe then, when he finally has his morning coffee at ten in the morning, the tightness in his throat will ease. "You're welcome, Byun. Think you can go there now without me holding your hand? No more tears?"

Baekhyun laughs some more, louder this time. It almost blares in the speakers of Jongdae's phone. He files it under the category of "Foreign Sounds" at the back of his mind, for when he finds himself curling up in bed without Baekhyun's warmth to drag him out of his room. "Fuck you. I'll see you in a while. Coffee's on me. Americano, right? Splenda, as usual."

No coffee, then. His chest constricts, and he pauses for a while, wondering if it would be a good idea to hang up on Baekhyun without preamble and blame it all on poor mobile connectivity. With a loud exhale, he says into the receiver, "Yup, two packs of Splenda," and hangs up with a curt farewell.

He thinks of texting Joonmyun, but then there's nothing to talk about, really, not when he's already sent Joonmyun the +44 acoustic arrangement he'd worked out a couple of days back. Joonmyun's too young to understand the feeling of moving backwards when everyone else is moving on. Joonmyun's just his student, a man who has a lovely voice that eases the tension in his muscles and shoves vodka drinks his way whenever Jongdae's caught off-guard. Joonmyun's just another guy.

 

 

Seoul's early morning traffic gets the better of him, and Baekhyun only has three buttons left unbuttoned on his polo when Jongdae arrives. Jongdae's eyes trace the column of Baekhyun's neck, down to his collarbones and the giving flesh of his chest, and he blinks twice as Baekhyun shifts in his position. "It's hot," is the only thing that Baekhyun says, and Jongdae swallows all other thoughts that pass his mind, chokes them down until his hands are steady again and his successfully buttons up Baekhyun's polo all the way.

Baekhyun slips the blazer off of the hanger, putting it on in one swift motion just like how they've been taught back when they were still trainees. In all black, Baekhyun looks much older, much more serious, like he's being contained to a world of black and white and his color can't seep through the monochromatic pages. If Baekhyun wore his hair pushed back, he'd look better, more handsome. The furrow of his eyebrows had always been sort of endearing during Jongdae's darkest times, _Seollal_ a few years back.

"You should be glad I'm not yet in my suit. _Then_ I'd look so much better than you," Jongdae teases. Baekhyun jabs him on the arm, and even if Baekhyun hasn't said it yet, he knows that Baekhyun feels a bit too bundled up in what he's wearing. He's never fancied wearing formal attire, after all; even during awards ceremonies, Baekhyun had insisted he wear a light blazer over polo and jeans.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just—" Baekhyun turns around, twisting his torso as he checks his suit. "How do I look?"

_Gorgeous._ "Dark," Jongdae quips. _Like you could kill._ He ruffles Baekhyun's hair, and Baekhyun snarls in retaliation. "I think the actual suit can use a bit of work, though? Just so it would fall on your shoulders better, right—" Jongdae grips Baekhyun's arms, slides his hands up the corners of Baekhyun's shoulders. "—here."

There's a small smile on Baekhyun's lips. He has an eyebrow raised, and his eyes are squinted just a little. Jongdae fixes his gaze on the bridge of Baekhyun's nose, instead, because it's his most unattractive feature, if there's any at all. "Have you been taking fashion lessons from Jonghyunnie?"

"Ew. Not him." Jongdae cringes, making a display of his distaste, but Baekhyun's turned to the lady assisting him already and is telling her to have the suit adjusted just a fourth of a centimeter on both sides. "It's Boa-noona who has good taste. Jonghyun just puts stuff together, hoping he'd come up with a good outfit."

"Which explains why you made him pick out your season finale clothes."

" _Shut up._ "

Baekhyun bows to the lady and tells her they'll drop by again in a week, or whenever the suit's ready. "You have my number, right? Just give me a call," he adds, then turns to Jongdae, swaying from side to side like he used to, back when they were still trainees, the cool winter breeze making their noses and cheeks a bit too red, Baekhyun's hand in his serving as the only source warmth. "Coffee?"

"Feed me," Jongdae sputters. He digs his hands in his pockets. It's not even autumn yet, but the tips of his fingers get cold all too easily. "I'm hungry."

Baekhyun walks closer, snaking an arm around his shoulder to pull him close, their sides pressing against each other. Baekhyun's body is much warmer than the usual. Maybe it's the aftermath of fitting that suit or the thrill of getting married soon. Maybe that's just how Baekhyun really is; Jongdae should know better.

He fishes his phone from his pocket and texts Joonmyun, saying, _wanna drop by my studio tonight? we can practice your sets better there. but don't bring your guitar._ Baekhyun's blabbering about wanting to pick a lighter material for his suit but the tailor recommending against it, and Sunyoung asking him to pick up some stuff from Myeongdong, _"Myeongdong, of all places! It's frickin' far from Gangnam and I'm too lazy to drive—"_ Jongdae tries to keep up, laughing at the important points of the story, and he feels an odd sort of warmth wrap around his texting hand when he sees Joonmyun's reply, even that annoying bunny sticker that he sends right after.

_my guitar's part of me. it goes wherever i go :p_  
kidding, hyung! i'll be there. beam me up, scotty!  
see you c: 

 

 

The company building gets progressively busier as evening approaches. Six in the evening and there are people who have just come in, the vending machine stations populated with trainees of varying ages. Jongdae and Taeyeon pass by a couple of boys, a group of five, and Taeyeon whispers something about _that kid with really long hair possibly being the face of the group._ Jongdae nudges her with his elbow, and there's collective cooing a few feet behind them. People are still buying that old J.D.-Taeyeon dating rumor even if Taeyeon had already come forward with confirmation on her relationship with Jonghyun.

"I told you, noona, if you'd just given me a chance—" It's Taeyeon's turn to elbow him in his side, and Jongdae narrowly avoids the impact, nearly losing balance if not for the wall somehow preventing the fall. "I'm just saying, _I could have been the one!_ "

Taeyeon pays no attention to him, steps steady and measured as they walk down the hall. "You grabbing dinner with us? Jonghyunnie and I are checking out some fancy place in Hongdae. He says it's his favorite or something." Taeyeon makes that small, grumbling noise at the back of her throat that Jongdae registers as her _Jonghyun's really, really adorable sometimes, and I hate it_ spiel. "If it's his favorite, then why don't I know about it?"

"He changes favorites on a daily basis, Taeng. One time, he called me his favorite friend!" They slip into the elevator, and a KKT notification comes in just before the door closes. "Lasted for about a few minutes. Best moment of my life."

"I thought that was when Kyungsoo was taken in by SM."

Jongdae snorts. "Kyungsoo."

Taeyeon looks up at him, a silly grin on her lips as she sticks one finger in his side, tickling him. He puts up a fight for the first few seconds until Taeyeon attacks a sore spot, and a cackle escapes his lips, too shrill that it matches the pitch of the _ding_ of the elevator. Taeyeon stomps on one of Jongdae's feet in tandem with the door opening, and they're giggling when they alight the elevator, the protruding bone of their wrists bumping. Jongdae feels a sharp line of electricity shoot up his arm.

"Oh, and noona— I'll have to pass on that invitation." He sniffles, then blinks away the beads of tears that have accumulated at the corners of his eyes. "I have something tonight."

Taeyeon stops in her tracks, an eyebrow raised at him, lips pursed. She's most beautiful like this, he thinks, when she means to tease but only ends up sending men's hearts aflutter. Jongdae has always found her attractive, and maybe he'd had a crush on her before when they were still young and Jonghyun hadn't built a fence around Taeyeon yet. "You're going out with someone?" she asks, each syllable drawn out, and she punctuates it with the small upward curve of the lip.

"Not… going out. More like—" Jongdae scratches the back of neck, worrying his bottom lip as he does so. "I just have something to do tonight. _Work,_ if you can call it like that."

The smile on Taeyeon's lips relaxes into something more familiar, and she's back on her feet, footsteps steady as they inch nearer to the entrance. "You're always working, even on your break. I'd have spent the time off traveling or something—"

"Hyung?"

Jongdae takes a deep breath, lips parted just slightly as he holds it, right there where his chest feels full and it might burst at any time. The tips of his fingers are cold. The makings of summer blow from the outside, seeping through the slightly ajar doors of the company, and for the first time in a while Jongdae's thankful that the doors at the entrance are frosted. Joonmyun's in a blue polo this time, rolled up until just under his elbows, and his jeans are dark and possibly too tight — he looks even smaller and maybe too thin, and maybe the wind outside might topple Joonmyun over anytime, so Jongdae tugs Joonmyun closer, grabbing him by the wrist, greeting him with a smile that shows just the edges of his teeth.

"Hey."

Joonmyun's eyes flit to Taeyeon, and they widen as she smiles at him, soft and tender. "Kim Taeyeon-ssi," he says, bowing down all the way, and Taeyeon just chuckles at the greeting, telling him to _please, please get up now._

"Suho, right? The guy from…" She snaps her fingers, eyebrows furrowed as she turns to Jongdae. "Blue Moon? When Boa-unnie thought it was a good idea to get ass-drunk on a Sunday evening?"

The corners of Joonmyun's lips relax, and Jongdae briefly registers that Joonmyun's lips are nice, not too full. The curl at the corners, too, is really nice. "Yup, that kid," Jongdae confirms, pulling Joonmyun much closer, one arm around Joonmyun's shoulder. "Dibs, noona. _I called dibs._ I just have to make it clear."

Taeyeon raises her hands in defense, but Jongdae sees a peculiar smile on her lips, one he doesn't see often. He can't decipher this yet, not even with all those years of working alongside each other — most of Taeyeon's special smiles are directed at Jonghyun, after all. "Relax, I'm not taking him away from you." She jabs at his arm lightly, then turns to Joonmyun with a smug grin. "I'll make sure to look out for you, Suho-ssi." She adds a wink at the end, and she turns to the right, straight to the stairs leading down to the basement parking.

"Have you been waiting for a while already?" Jongdae asks, then looks over his shoulder to smile at the security. He leads Joonmyun, who still hasn't said a word from when he'd seen Taeyeon, to the elevator, and presses the button for the fifth floor before the doors close in on them.

"I've been here, once," Joonmyun says now, voice barely above a whisper. He's assessing the floor, the number pad of the elevator, Jongdae's reflection on the door. Jongdae tears his eyes from Joonmyun's reflection on the cool metal. "Years ago, when I still had the leisure of hoping I could actually make it big."

It's the first time that he's seen Joonmyun in white light, right beside him without the comfort of darkness or dim lights illuminating his features. Here, where he's neither washed out nor swallowed by an expanse of black, Joonmyun looks like an average young adult hoping to get recruited by SM. Jongdae knows this feeling, one where everything closes in on you and everything looks so big, and you feel so small, and you just want to curl up in a corner and count to ten until your name is called and you're asked to do whatever you can possibly do to be accepted into SM's rigorous training program.

"There's still time," Jongdae finally says, He draws his shoulders back. The elevators here are excruciatingly slow. "You're not yet thirty. And besides, you can actually sing!" There's a shrill _ding_ again, and Jongdae finds himself smiling as he steps outside, one foot at the doorstep to keep the elevator doors from closing. "The height leaves much to be desired, though."

Joonmyun laughs a little, lightly and easy, and Jongdae can see Joonmyun's shoulders lifting. He's got his chin up now, and he's looking around, eyes wide and lips stretched in a smile. His features are sharper, but his voice remains soft and steady; Jongdae likes that. Joonmyun isn't normally this silent, not when there's alcohol to keep the conversation going, but the silence isn't so daunting. "I don't understand what's interesting about white walls," Jongdae teases, and Joonmyun immediately turns to him, an eyebrow raised. "The studio's over there."

It's when they get inside the studio that Joonmyun actually _coos_ , shoulders slumping as he scans the room and his eyes land on the equalizer. "This is where the magic happens, huh?" Joonmyun traces the edge of the table, then leans closer to the levers and knobs of the equalizer. He reaches out for a while but quickly retracts his hand. Jongdae feels like he's thirty-five again, back when he'd just lost to Jonghyun in season one and he'd given Kyungsoo a tour around the building, and Kyungsoo had begged that they stay here in studio nine _where it's the coziest_. They'd shared an entire pizza then, and he'd brushed the crumbs that caught on Kyungsoo's bottom lip with his thumb. Kyungsoo had leaned into the touch, then shoved the crust between Jongdae's lips.

"This is my Hogwarts, I guess." Jongdae stretches his arms out, then locks them behind his back before turning back to Joonmyun. "You up for pizza? I'll call delivery."

Joonmyun nods and makes himself comfortable, sitting on the table.

The first half of the session sees Joonmyun putting up against Jongdae's protests of not having Joonmyun sing a +44 song. "I wouldn't have brought it up if I _hadn't tried it first,_ Joonmyun eyes says, waving his phone in front of Jongdae, then pulls up a recording. There's nothing but static at first, then clearing of the throat, and there's a faint squeak until the sound gets fuller and clearer — Joonmyun must have switched rooms.

_"Jongdae-hyung! So, uh, I tried recording the song—"_

"No, this isn't—" Joonmyun scans his files, thumbs moving quickly as he navigates through his phone. Jongdae leans closer, resting his chin on Joonmyun's shoulder, and Joonmyun stops scrolling, a soft _ah_ escaping his lips. "I think I've found it. Here."

"It's just the cleaned up version of the previous recording," Jongdae retorts. Joonmyun shifts a little, and the tip of Jongdae's nose bumps into the back of Joonmyun's ear. He pulls away too abruptly. "You could've kept playing the other one."

"I trimmed it for a reason, okay." Joonmyun hits the play button and makes room for his phone just between them. Jongdae takes this as his cue to maintain a good distance between them, moving a few inches away. "Just listen."

Joonmyun's not-so-quiet defiance finds an extension in his recording, his voice finding a snug fit in the melody he's created with his guitar. The beat's a bit fast for his tone, Jongdae thinks, and sometimes Joonmyun stumbles over his words, but there's potential in this number, like if Jongdae works his magic on it and slows it down by one count or takes it down half an octave, it will suit Joonmyun's tone perfectly. "Not bad," he says, though, if only to draw out an interesting reaction from Joonmyun, and Joonmyun delivers — he turns to Jongdae, sneering, eyes sharp and bright and brimming with something Jongdae can't seem to place.

Joonmyun leans in, just a bit closer, a question — _are you challenging me?_ in his eyes. If Jongdae stretches out his palm between their faces, then it won't seem as if there's barely any breathing space between them. "I'll follow up on our order," he mumbles, excusing himself to make a call, slipping from the room as fast as he can.

He hopes Joonmyun won't realize that Jongdae has left his phone inside the room, somewhere behind his laptop. He heads straight to the restroom, pace so quick that he almost bumps into the pizza delivery guy and gets the food all over his shirt.

 

 

It's almost midnight when they finish. Jongdae has gotten crumbs all over the table, and it's a good thing that Joonmyun's shielding the equalizer from the wrath of stuffed crust pizza else Jongdae would have probably gotten some oil or bread or even the cheese on it. His control over his limbs is only as good as his skill in playing Dragon Quest, which isn't that much. He loses patience halfway through breeding monsters, in the same manner that he stops taking tiny bites of the pizza and starts going for big bites, instead.

"You're gross, hyung," Joonmyun says, putting more emphasis on the last word like it actually makes a difference. 

Jongdae looks over his shoulder, laughing a little, until he feels the weight of his laptop in his hands. He slips it inside its case and wears the strap over his shoulder, looking around for one last time before stepping closer to the door.

"I'm gonna miss this place," Joonmyun whispers. His fingers are tracing the edge of the table again and, this time, he lets his hand wander to the knobs of the equalizer. "I do everything on Audition at home and it's really great, but working in a studio is…"

"Something—"

Joonmyun furrows his eyebrows, bottom lip jutted out as he tilts his head. "Hyung?"

Jongdae blinks a few times until the crumbs that have caught on the corners of Joonmyun's lips come to focus. He reaches out, tentatively at first, and from where he is he can see the wind burn all around Joonmyun's mouth. Joonmyun's lips are too red, and his lower lip's more chappy that the upper lip, a thin red marking near the corner of his mouth. Jongdae brushes his thumb on a corner, and then another, the motions slow and measured so as to not make Joonmyun wince of flinch or retaliate. The tip of the thumb grazes Kyungsoo's lips lightly, and it takes every inch of Jongdae not to lean in and do _something_ about it.

"There. Better," Jongdae says when he steps back, one hand on Joonmyun's shoulder, the other balled into a fist, clutching on his shirt. His heart beat's racing and he can still feel the burn of Joonmyun's lips on his skin, the roughness of the small crumbs latching onto his thumb, can still see the sharp look of surprise in Joonmyun's eyes. "I'm sorry, there's was something on your—" He gestures at Joonmyun's mouth. "There. Right there."

Joonmyun darts his tongue out, licking his bottom lip as he maintains eye contact with Jongdae. His lips remain parted, like he's supposed to say something but all that comes out is a faint _thanks,_ even after Joonmyun clears his throat. "Thanks, hyung," he tries again, and Jongdae saves him the trouble of pulling away — Jongdae turns on his heel and walks forward until his belly bumps into the knob.

With the soft click of the door to studio nine, Jongdae leaves his thoughts inside where he can't hear them. Tonight, he focuses on Joonmyun's steady, even breathing, Joonmyun's curious yet teasing gaze, Joonmyun's lips, Joonmyun's tongue darting out to wet them.

Joonmyun's performance from too many nights back, the one on Blue Moon, still ringing in his ears.

 

 

There's a dull ache in Jongdae's hands when he rouses from his sleep. His phone blinks an annoying green light at the corner, beeping in rapid succession — two messages, then three different files, all in one chat thread. _three different keys c:,_ reads the last message, and Jongdae loads the first clip, the guitar riff stirring his senses completely and making him get up from his bed.

Jongdae spends a good three minutes pouring cereal and milk into his bowl, pausing every so often to draw his phone closer to his ear to listen for any sharps and flats; his hearing isn't exactly the most reliable at such an early hour. The whole of the second track is spent fixing the bed, and by the time the song hits the last chorus, Jongdae finds himself gripping one of the pillows tight.

The third track, he listens to without any distractions, sitting down on the floor, eyes closed.

_the second one's the best. add a second voice and you're all set c:_ Jongdae replies after a while, getting up from the floor. It's Joonmyun's voice that he listens to throughout the day — in his car, in the studio, even on the way home, all the way to the evening, until he heads to bed and lies on his back. The ache in his hands doesn't let on, and he figures he can live with it if he sleeps now while Joonmyun's voice plays in his head.

He rubs his thumb against his index finger. Joonmyun's lips are softer.

 

 

Joonmyun develops the habit of sending him voice recordings through KKT at obscene hours of the day. Jongdae almost winces when he hears the 3 a.m. fatigue in Joonmyun's voice — his tone's at least an octave and a half lower, and he's stumbling over his words more than the usual, but he hits the high notes as good as always, his voice sweet and smooth as he carries out the tune for an extended time. It's when he sings John Legend's _All of Me_ that he discovers the sweet spot of his low notes, and the recording catches that moment of surprise where Joonmyun gasps and giggles for a good ten seconds before resuming his singing, singing all the way up to the end.

"I'm having mixed emotions about you singing with piano as your accompaniment, though," Jongdae comments after one of Joonmyun's gigs at Finger. The bouncers know Jongdae by face now, and at one point the of the staff had even reserved the table closest to the stage for him, knowing that Jongdae's there for Joonmyun's performance. "You sound good, but if the piano overwhelms your voice then you'll have to stick to your guitar."

"It's not the type of song you can just translate to guitar chords, hyung," Joonmyun protests. His bangs are now pushed to the side, and some of it falls on Joonmyun's eyes. He's quick to brush them off even before Jongdae can reach over. "It's worth a shot."

"It's not the same as when you were playing in Bbang anymore, Joonmyun."

"You've heard me playing in Bbang?"

Joonmyun's shoulders tremble, and Jongdae holds his breath at the response. The green light coming from below does very little to soften the creases on Joonmyun's forehead when he furrows his eyebrows, and casts his a pale glow. Jongdae thinks of when he'd spent hours with Joonmyun in the studio, the white light accentuating each and every single detail of Joonmyun's face — the smooth curve of his face, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the slope of the bridge of his nose, his soft lips— "You were singing Vienna Teng songs." Jongdae scratches the back of his neck. "I was with Jonghyun and a few more people then. It was—"

"A long time ago," is all that Joonmyun says. He drums his fingers on the table, then takes a sip of his drink. Jongdae will never find the charm in drinking vodka neat. "A very long time ago."

With only a month left until Baekhyun's wedding, Jongdae finds himself staying longer hours in the studio, studying songs and recreating them, adding a few more beats, or even stripping them down to the very bare minimum, then sending them off to Joonmyun to see how Joonmyun would interpret the song. Taeyeon drags him out on a few occasions, all at Jonghyun's request, and Boa sends texts from time to time, telling him to _please stay away from my dance studio,_ but, _i miss you, though. i can't find a drinking buddy quite like you._

_please send jaejoongie-hyung my regards. it's him i really miss,_ Jongdae replies, and Boa bombards the chat window with a plethora of stickers. Jongdae expends a third of his collection, going for a _no fair, noona. i don't even buy stickers for this thing!!!_ once he struggles to find a sticker that can counter Boa's previous attack, and Boa simply sends him an image of a white character with a big, round head, flashing a v-sign at him.

_fuck u ⋟_ he says as a comeback, then exits from the chat log. A message from Joonmyun comes up, one that isn't a voice recording, and he types a quick reply before immersing himself in work again, humming the tune of a song Joonmyun has sent him a few days back.

 

 

Jongdae's coaching duties come full circle when he drives all the way to Apgeujong to pick out a good enough outfit for Joonmyun.

Joonmyun's performing at Eden tonight, and its patrons are much more fashion-conscious than that of ZZYZX's. Joonmyun had initially planned on going with his usual attire and just dressing it up with a different blazer, maybe, but Jongdae had insisted on something different. "This is Eden you're talking about. The people there are judgmental as fuck. I want you to look your best when you face that crowd."

"Wow. Thanks, hyung. That makes me feel a lot less nervous," Joonmyun grumbles, but it sounds more like he's about to throw up instead of being on the verge of pushing Jongdae off a cliff. There's the sound of city traffic in the background — Joonmyun's probably on his way home from work, as well. He makes a mental note to ask Joonmyun what he does on his spare time, when he isn't recording things and sending Jongdae voice clips. "I'm sorry for having to drag you all the way to Apgeu just for this."

"Joonmyunnie—" A car turning left honks hard at him, and he steps on the brake too hard, then sticks his middle finger up. It's a shame he can't pull his window down, but then the media will probably have a field day if he ever gets caught on camera doing something unbecoming of an idol. Jonghyun had done something worse, though, wiggling his ass in front of a car that almost ran him over; talk of the town for the next few weeks, and Taeyeon's wallpaper on her phone for nearly half a year. "Look. You have to stop apologizing for everything. It's fine." Twenty seconds more until he gets a move on. "Thanks for dinner, by the way. Chinese would be great!"

Joonmyun laughs a little, and Jongdae finds himself smiling when he hears less of nervousness and more of relief in Joonmyun's voice. "Thanks, hyung. You're the best."

"But of course!" Jongdae speeds past another traffic light, narrowly avoiding the orange light. "Relax, kid. I've got you."

Jongdae arrives right on time, and it takes him a good five minutes to navigate his way to Joonmyun's flat. "I can smell the Chinese food. The scent led me here," is what Jongdae says as a greeting, and Joonmyun's shoulders drop a little, arms enveloping him in a hug.

"You have no idea how glad I am to see you," Joonmyun mumbles. He moves closer, face now buried in the crook of Jongdae's neck, and suddenly Jongdae's too aware of Joonmyun's breath hot on his skin, Joonmyun's lips brushing against his neck lightly.

"I think I do now," Jongdae replies, winking at Joonmyun when he pulls away.

They eat in silence, Joonmyun humming in between bites of his food and Jongdae tapping his foot to whatever melody Joonmyun comes up with. Joonmyun makes a tower of the food cartons once they're done, putting one on top of the other, and Jongdae accosts him just as Joonmyun tries to rearrange them, trying to look for a better fit.

"Just put them in the middle, right here—" Jongdae clasps his hands over Joonmyun's smaller ones, guiding him as he drags the cartons to the middle of the table. "And then you can take them out later!" Joonmyun makes a small sound of protest, or an unintelligible gurgle at the back of his throat, like he doesn't know what to feel about being trapped with Jongdae's arms on either side of him, and Jongdae pulls away even before Joonmyun can elbow him in his side. "Let's get you dressed?"

Joonmyun looks up at him with a small smile. His cheeks look warm and flush, and from where Jongdae is Joonmyun looks so much younger than he should be, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes drawing all the attention to them and away from his eye bags. "Yeah, let's," Joonmyun replies, then wraps a hand around Jongdae's wrist, dragging him to his room.

Jongdae picks out a pair of black leather pants, leather shoes, and a black polo for Joonmyun, and he spends the next few minutes fussing over the length of Joonmyun's pants. He folds the material carefully, and Joonmyun laughs a little when Jongdae's knuckles brush against his ankle. He can feel Joonmyun's fingers in his hair, between the strands, tugging hard when he attempts to fold the other side to make the length of the pants even.

"You're paying for this," Jongdae says when he gets up, pointing at his mussed up hair. "And nope, I won't let you do that—"

Joonmyun furrows his eyebrows, and Jongdae takes a step closer, tugging at Joonmyun's wrist until Joonmyun lets his hand fall to his side. He holds down the first button with his thumb, then rests his free hand on Joonmyun's shoulder as he pushes it. It comes off without much effort, so Jongdae repeats it for the second, dragging his other hand to the placket of the polo, tugging on the other side so that the button releases its hold on the hole much easier. He fumbles with the edges of the placket, pulling them farther apart and out, and it's only when he takes a step back that he realizes Joonmyun is staring at him, and that he's tracing lines, slow and languid, along Joonmyun's collarbones.

"I think—" Joonmyun's voice drifts off, and he looks down at Jongdae's hands before looking back up to meet him in the eye. "I could do away with another."

Jongdae nods, then slides his hands down to the third button, pushing with his thumb yet again, and he watches it come off from its hold, gently pulling at the placket again to reveal an expanse of flesh. He can hear Joonmyun's breath hitching, can feel the heat slowly creeping up Joonmyun's chest, can feel his throat tightening as he tugs even harder. He smoothes out the edges of the placket, fingers brushing lightly on Joonmyun's exposed skin, and when he looks up he catches Joonmyun's licking his lips.

"We should—" Joonmyun darts his tongue out again, and Jongdae can feel his hands trembling against Joonmyun's skin. He lets his them fall to his sides and he clears his throat as he continues, "We should get going."

"Do I… look good?"

_Too good,_ Jongdae almost says. "Mhmm," he replies, instead, then reaches over one more time, running his hands through Joonmyun's hair. "One last thing—"

He combs Joonmyun's hair to the side, getting rid of the middle part, and brushes the bangs that cover Joonmyun's eyes away from his face, giving up only when the bangs fall over Joonmyun's eyes for a third time. He tucks Joonmyun's hair behind the ears, fingers lingering on the back of it, where jaw meets neck, and he slides his hand all the way down, nails running a line along Joonmyun's neck until his hand finally settles on Joonmyun's shoulder. "There. All set," he whispers, eyes lingering in the dip of Joonmyun's upper lip.

"You really hate the middle part, don't you?" Joonmyun teases, voice cracking somewhere in the middle. Jongdae feels his throat relax, all the knots in his stomach untangling, and he takes a step back to admire his work for one last time.

"A lot," he says, smiling as he ends. Joonmyun chuckles, his voice reaching that sweet high note, and Jongdae feels something drop at the pit of his stomach, like a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode.

Joonmyun reaches out, wraps his hand around Jongdae's wrist again, and tugs him closer, their bodies pressing against each other briefly before Joonmyun drags Jongdae out of the room.

Three. Two. One.


	2. Chapter 2

Traffic in Seoul is much more tolerable at this time of the day. There aren't too many cars on the road anymore, and drivers are much less irate, so Jongdae keeps the radio at a low volume, giving Joonmyun free reign on the music.

Joonmyun plugs his own iPod in and loads a playlist filled with soft, soothing sounds. He keeps shifting in his seat, though, and the steady humming is gone. Between shifting traffic lights, Jongdae glances at him, briefly concerned about Joonmyun ruining his hair, but that only gives Jongdae an excuse to run his fingers through the tuft. Nobody wins, and he's the only one who loses. Joonmyun's the unassuming prize at the end of the game.

They reach Eden in a little under thirty minutes, and the club's already packed when they arrive. The dim lighting makes it hard to find their way through the crowd and to the side of the stage, and by the time they get there Joonmyun has already run his hands through his hair far too many times for Jongdae to count. "Relax," Jongdae whispers, taking a step forward as he does so, and he fixes Joonmyun's hair again, then fixes Joonmyun's collar. Joonmyun cracks his neck, and for a moment his hand gets trapped under Joonmyun's head, Joonmyun's skin keeping him warm.

"I think you're more nervous than I am, hyung," Joonmyun teases, but Jongdae knows that peculiar lilt of the voice all too well for him to brush it off as nothing. Joonmyun wears the strap of his guitar around his shoulders, and he flashes a thumbs up at Jongdae for one last time before disappearing backstage, too immersed in talking with the band he'll be playing with tonight.

Jongdae manages to find a lone table to the side, where the light no longer reaches. He settles there and orders gin tonic, drumming his fingers on the table as he waits for the performance to start.

Joonmyun goes up first tonight, and he goes for an introduction instead of jumping right to singing or playing his guitar. Despite being in all black, the darkness doesn't eat him up even if he steps away from where the light shines the brightest. His blond hair sticks out like a beacon of light, and Jongdae squints, trying to ease the pressure on his eyes a little.

Then he remembers being in a room with Joonmyun, all alone, his fingers working on the buttons of Joonmyun's polo. Joonmyun had been so warm under him then, and Joonmyun hadn't brushed him off, and Jongdae's eyes keep flitting from Joonmyun's own to the dip of his neck, then settling on Joonmyun's collarbones.

Joonmyun's skin is so soft. He wonders how it would feel to keep touching Joonmyun, fingers tracing his collarbones, the length of his torso, dipping under the waistband of Joonmyun's tight leather pants—

The music finally starts, and Joonmyun harmonizes with a female singer at the back. The beat is faster than most of the songs Joonmyun has ever performed, and Joonmyun's voice takes a light dip, venturing to the lower pitch of his range. This is the same sweet spot that Joonmyun had hit back when he attempted to do a John Legend song, and Joonmyun's eyes are sharp, dark, hooded as he sings about being cheated on.

A low, velvety tone slips from his lips when he hits the chorus. Jongdae can feel his chest constricting.

Joonmyun's swaying to the music now, eyes closed, losing himself to the beat of his own song, and Jongdae briefly wonders what it would take to shake him out of it, this trance, and make Joonmyun focus on him.

 

 

It takes Joonmyun a good ten minutes after the performance before he finds the table Jongdae has reserved for them.

"I'm never wearing black again," Joonmyun grumbles, loud enough for Jongdae to catch but not so much that the people at the table beside theirs can hear. He leans back into the couch, throwing his head back as he sinks into the cushion. "I think I could use more practice with dealing with drums," he goes on to say after a while, and Jongdae simply keeps his eyes fixed on the stage where a new band has taken over. They're singing Jazz songs; it's a bad pick when Joonmyun ended with a slightly upbeat song.

Jongdae suddenly feels something in his side, slender and cold, and he almost jumps when Joonmyun starts poking at him, a grin stretched across his lips.

"Thought I lost you for a moment," Joonmyun says, body facing Joonmyun now. He's got one leg propped under his thigh, and his left hand finds its way to Jongdae's thigh. "You okay, hyung?"

"Yeah, just—" Jongdae's eyes are drawn to the column of Joonmyun's neck, and he continues south, up until the edges of the placket of Joonmyun's polo. "Thinking of that performance back there, the first one," he continues, recovering just slightly. The hand on his thigh is warm, and Joonmyun hasn't even had alcohol yet. Maybe it's the heat from the lighting seeping from Joonmyun skin, through the thick material of Jongdae's pants. "You're right, you need more practice with dealing with drums. The modulation of your voice was off in some parts."

Joonmyun inches closer, and Jongdae takes a quick look around them — the darkness is thick enough to shield them from the view of most people, and nobody really cares about him when he isn't promoting songs or appearing on television as a coach in The Voice. He leans back into the couch, trying to relax his shoulders even with the distraction of Joonmyun rubbing circles on his thigh with his hand. "Which ones?"

"Did you drink before going up there?"

Joonmyun chuckles. "Two shots. The guys backstage made me." He sniffs a little, rubbing the tip of his nose with his index finger. "It was the band's first time performing here, too, so we… needed to be a little buzzed before getting up there."

Jongdae laughs a little, shaking his head. "Your first drink's on me. You did well."

"Hmm." Joonmyun leans closer. If there's enough light, Jongdae can probably count Joonmyun's eyelashes. If he's inebriated enough, he can trace the length of Joonmyun's face with fingers. He isn't. "I'm not sure if a good teacher buys his student drinks all the time. What do you think, _sonsaengnim?_ "

He can't think, not right now, not when he's already had a glass of gin and the dinner he's eaten leaves him craving more food, not with Joonmyun this close. "I think… you talk too much," he replies, trying on his best smile, and he ruffles his Joonmyun's hair a little. " _Grab a drink._ We'll talk about your performance when you get back."

Joonmyun looks at him for a while, assessing, then pulls away with an easy smile.

Jongdae tries his hardest to focus, to come up with critique on Joonmyun's performance, but his mind is much too clouded — with alcohol, with the feeling of his thumbs against Joonmyun's collarbones, with Joonmyun's breath hot against his cheek. Water's much too expensive at a club, so he goes for another glass of alcohol. "Joonmyun, can you get me some whiskey?" he calls out in time, and Joonmyun gives him a wink before stepping back into the light, making his way to the bar.

The light washes Joonmyun out. Jongdae can feel the tension in his stomach ease a little.

 

 

The dilemma in bringing a car when he knows he'll be drinking a lot is bringing it back home.

"You can't drive, hyung," Joonmyun says beside him, face buried in Jongdae's arm. It's a good day to wear a dark long-sleeved polo today, what with autumn slowly making its way through the months, blowing cold wind at an obscene hour. It's a nice contrast to the warm press of Joonmyun's body, especially when Joonmyun hangs onto Jongdae's hand like a lifeline. He'd done the same earlier, when they were talking about looking for a way to work around percussion instruments, Joonmyun tracing patterns on the back of Jongdae's hand. Maybe it was because Jongdae had already downed three more glasses of whiskey even with the knowledge that he'll have to drive home that he just let Joonmyun, even falling silent at one point and just staring at Joonmyun scribbling figures on his skin.

"I can't leave this here, though."

"You're not driving home after drinking too much. You're not going to get yourself arrested for it, and you're definitely not gonna run yourself into a tree." Joonmyun's mostly slurring, but his words still make sense, and his grip on Jongdae is tight. "Hyung. Let's take a cab. It's safer. I won't let you drive your expensive car all the way to Cheongdam."

"You're just concerned about the car," Jongdae teases. Joonmyun looks at him, eyes heavy-lidded, and Jongdae's laughter quickly dies down. "Kidding. Fine. Parking's gonna kick me in the ass."

"I hate private cars," Joonmyun mumbles. "Next time, don't bring your car when you know we'll be heading home late."

"It's not my fault you asked me to—" His mind goes back to what happened earlier that night, in the room, and how Joonmyun had looked at him with too many questions in his eyes. "Fine."

"Okay, it's off to a cab for us." Joonmyun finally lets go, stretching out an arm to hail a taxi. "Would you mind if I took the first cab, hyung?"

He wouldn't, really, except Joonmyun has had way too much to drink and there's a clawing sensation at the pit of Jongdae's stomach that simply won't sit with the idea of letting Joonmyun go home at such a late hour, and in this state. "Just stay at my place until the morning. I can't let you go home alone."

Joonmyun gives him that look again, the one loaded with too many emotions that Jongdae can't pick out just one to define them all. "I'm not a kid, hyung. I'm not that drunk. I can still gives directions to my house."

"I insist," Jongdae says, grabbing Joonmyun by the back of his collar. The edges of Joonmyun's hair brush against his knuckles. Joonmyun's warm — it must be the alcohol, or the cool wind blowing in their faces. "Scoot. I'll get us a cab."

"I have to report to work early."

"Call in sick. I won't let you go home alone when you can't even say my name correctly."

Joonmyun steps closer, almost stomping on Jongdae's feet, and Jongdae laughs a little but keeps his arm outstretched in case a taxi drives by. _"Jomdae-hyung."_

"I don't know a _Jomdae,_ Joonmyunnie." He bumps his shoulder into Joonmyun's, and Joonmyun nearly stumbles, holding onto Jongdae's waist for balance. Jongdae takes a deep breath, abdomen clenching, and Joonmyun giggling into his arm doesn't help make things better.

Jongdae spends the next twenty minutes listening to Joonmyun's soft snores and giggles, Joonmyun's head on his shoulder, lips grazing his neck every so often. He drifts off from time to time, but Joonmyun's tiny sounds keep him in check, reminding him that they're in a cab and that there's one other person here, and that it's too late in the evening and that they're both heading to Jongdae's place, not to their separate flats.

Jongdae hands 5000 won to the driver and ushers a half-asleep Joonmyun up the stairs, into the elevator and eventually his condo. 

"Are you sure this is okay, hyung?"

Jongdae looks over his shoulder. Joonmyun's words sound clearer now, like the nap has done him well and has flushed some of the alcohol out of his system. He's leaning against the frame of the door, halfway in and out of Jongdae's condo, and never has he seen Joonmyun so small and unsure. "I mean, I told you, I can manage going home by myself. It's not as if I have shitty alcohol tolerance—"

"You do," Jongdae interrupts. He takes a few steps closer, reaching out to ruffle Joonmyun's hair. "And I don't mind. Not unless you grind your teeth in your sleep and you talk a lot."

"I sing in my sleep," Joonmyun confesses. He slips his shoes off his feet, revealing bright yellow socks. Jongdae hadn't caught them earlier, but it lends well to the outfit, a touch of something different amidst all the black and dark hues that make Joonmyun look twice his age. "Will that be a problem?"

"How do you know you sing when you —" Jongdae shakes his head, then leans against the wall. "Never mind. Come on, let's go to bed. You have to get up early, right?"

Joonmyun laughs, walking over to where he is and looking up to meet Jongdae's eyes. "I lied. I can come in anytime." He scrunches his nose, rubbing the tip with his index finger — _Well, isn't that cute,_ Jongdae muses. "I own the company."

"You _own_ it?"

Joonmyun offers a soft smile, but it's tight around the edges. "Come on, hyung," he says, hands on his hips. It almost sounds as if he owns the place, but that can't be — it's the first time Joonmyun has been here. He can't be at home so easlly, especially with all the alcohol in his system. "We don't have all day."

Jongdae locks the door and walks past Joonmyun, leading him to the bedroom.

The sheets are still unmade up from this morning, when Baekhyun had unceremoniously pulled him out from bed for their standard Monday morning breakfast dates ("Date," Baekhyun repeats. He worries his bottom lip. "We can't use that term anymore."). "I hope this is comfortable enough for you," Jongdae says, hand moving across the emptiness around them, all the wasted space, then finally the bed. "I've been living alone for as long as I can remember," he adds, walking closer to the bed as he undoes the buckle of his belt. "'I've always found the bed small."

"It's big enough if you're alone. It looks really…" Joonmyun pats it, his hand sinking into the comforter. Jongdae can see Joonmyun's eyes fluttering close for a while. "Fluffy."

"You better get dressed. I'll get you a change of clothes. I'm not letting you sleep in those," Jongdae says, then rolls his belt in a coil, placing it on his bedside table. Joonmyun follows suit, and Jongdae finds himself watching Joonmyun slowly pull down the zipper of the tight pants. "You okay with that?"

Joonmyun looks up, stopping just before he pulls his pants down. Jongdae wets his lips, tongue swiping across his bottom lip slowly, and Joonmyun gives him a small smile before replying, "That would be great. Thanks, hyung."

Jongdae disappears behind the door of his closet and rests his head against the shelves for a while. His mind isn't spinning anymore, but his heartbeat's racing and there's a half-naked Joonmyun just beyond the door, and Joonmyun will be slipping beneath the covers with him. "Hyung, need help?" he hears Joonmyun say, and he simply waves a hand, then digs into the drawers, looking for a pair of sweats and a shirt that will fit Joonmyun.

He tosses the clothes in Joonmyun direction and Joonmyun catches them with relative ease. Jongdae's eyes run along the length of Joonmyun's legs, bare and a light shade of pink from all the alcohol he'd taken earlier, and he manages to tear his gaze from Joonmyun even before he gets caught. He changes out of his polo and pants, too, throwing the used clothes in a pile near the door to the bathroom.

He's halfway through pulling up his shirt when he catches Joonmyun staring. "These are comfy," Joonmyun says after a while, then drops his gaze back to his feel. Jongdae suddenly feels so cold.

He sits down on the bed once he's done, back against the pillows near the headboard. The allure of the soft cushions is sweet, wrapping around him like a quilt, but he quickly bolts when the feels the weight on the other side of the bed. Joonmyun has slipped beneath the covers, blanket drawn all the way up to his nose.

Jongdae reaches over, patting Joonmyun's hair, and Joonmyun scowls in response.

"Your bed's too big, hyung."

Jongdae laughs a little. "You have no right to complain," he says, then slips his legs under the covers as well. "You're just staying the—"

Joonmyun moves closer, until their arms brush against each other and Jongdae can feel Joonmyun's fingertips cold against his skin. "Thanks for taking care of me," Joonmyun whispers, then lies on his side so that he's facing Jongdae, chest to arm. His eyes are closed and his lips are drawn to a thin, thin line, and Joonmyun probably won't mind, so Jongdae slips an arm beneath the weight of Joonmyun's body, his hand coming to rest on Joonmyun's waist.

"I like herding lost sheep back home," Jongdae whispers, and Joonmyun only scoots closer, face now buried in Jongdae's chest. The lighting is dim enough to discourage Jongdae from leaning in to count Joonmyun's eyelashes, so he just rests his head atop Joonmyun's own, burying his nose in Joonmyun's hair. He smells of sweat and alcohol and Gangnam at three in the morning, of the welcoming winds of autumn after a long summer's day.

Jongdae hums a small melody under his breath until he falls asleep, one of Joonmyun's arms wrapped around his waist, like it has always been supposed to be there.

 

 

Jongdae wakes up alone in his bed, a sticky note stuck on his forehead. _thanks for your warm bed, hyung. had a good sleep c:_ it says, and he spends a few good minutes staring at it, a silly grin on his lips as he's finally convinced to peel himself from his bed and rejoin the world of the living. It's only nine in the morning, and the skies outside foreshadow rough weather. Summer in Korea has always been all extremes, and Jongdae's thankful that the monsoons haven't come yet. Having heavy rains means he has to stay inside without any noise to distract him from his thoughts.

His eyes travel to the sticky note he has just posted on the mirror of his dresser, and he laughs to himself, _at himself._ Heavy rains mean he has to skip on going to clubs and not being able to stay there until the whee hours of the morning, looking after a kid whose love for music can give him a run for his money. He looks around, searching for his phone, and launches KKT as soon as he finds it. _got home safely?_ he texts Joonmyun, and it almost comes as a surprise when a reply comes in not more than a minute after.

_i'm good! just a bit lightheaded, haha. you drive better than most cab drivers, hyung.  
not that i'm saying that i want to hire you as my driver or what_

By now, with summer almost ending, he knows that it usually takes Joonmyun fifty feet of long sentences to arrange his thoughts, but he has better days, too, when his replies are limited to a couple of words, meaningful ones that almost always end with a smiley and not proper punctuation. Joonmyun is a man of routine, someone who loves sticking to a pattern, but enjoys veering from it every so often — when he steals Jongdae's drink halfway through his vodka because _I can't remember how it tastes anymore, really_. Joonmyun always goes to work early, clocks out late unless he has a gig somewhere, and when he does perform in various clubs it means he needs to think even if all he does is talk — about music and the walk from the office to the club, or how uncomfortable it is to be performing in dark clothes.

 _as long as you feed me. i have time up until comeback next year,_ Jongdae replies after a while, and he tosses his phone back on his bed, heading to the kitchen to prepare something to eat.

Another sticky note in the middle of his kitchen table, and then food in a plastic container just beside it. _i'm not the best cook but you had food and i stole instant coffee from your stash. sorry :c (p.s. better throw out the kimchi if you're not gonna eat it this week; it's expiring soon)_

"I don't even have breakfast at home," Jongdae says, then pulls a chair, plopping down on it as he props his chin in his clasped hands.

He stares at the food — sunny-side up, about a cup of cooked rice, and breakfast sausage — he thought he never had, then traces the writing on the bright piece of Post-it.

"What do I do with you, Kim Joonmyun?"

_What are you doing to me?_

 

 

Jongdae cannot, for his life, understand why Baekhyun and Sunyoung chose to be married during summer. For one, wearing a gown would be the second most cumbersome thing ever (only next to wearing heels for extended periods of time, as proven by Taeyeon asking Jonghyun nicely to, _"Please carry me to the car? My feet fucking hurt. I love you."_ The weather does very little to make the schedule seem like it's a great idea, as well, and Jongdae simply frowns as he looks out of the window, watching the rain pour hard.

"It's the best possible date, though, according to the numerologist," Baekhyun says on the other end of the line. His voice breaks up occasionally, but Jongdae knows it's just the weather at work. "And it would be nice if we could go to Jeonju to visit her grandparents just a few days after _the big day_." Jongdae can hear Baekhyun using air quotes — he always does when he tries to convince people that what he's saying, despite the roundabout manner of explaining it, actually makes sense and is of importance. " _Halmeoni_ always complains that we don't visit her because we spend too much time in Bucheon."

"Do you, really? Because there isn't anything in Bucheon to return to anymore," Jongdae replies. He tucks his phone between his cheek and his shoulder, trying to whip something up in the kitchen. He ends up with cereals and a fruit cup; he'd thrown out the kimchi last week, after seeing the note.

"Just _halmeoni's_ house," Baekhyun replies. His voice is a bit reedy, a bit too nasal — either he hasn't been sleeping well or the weather's been getting to him more than it should. Sometimes, it's both. "She'll kill me if I sell it. I'm thinking of turning it into a shrine for Byun Baekhyun, best jazz singer to ever grace the land of South Korea."

Jongdae snorts. "It'll be a flop," he retorts. "Why don't you turn it into a shelter for dogs or something? Since, y'know, you technically were her pet."

"Why did I get you as my best man again?"

Jongdae laughs a little, but yelps when some of the fruit syrup spills on his fingers. "Because I'm your only friend."

"The only one who stuck around." Baekhyun laughs a little. "Sometimes I wonder why you did."

A lot of reasons, Jongdae wants to say, but laying down all the points will take more than a day. The press release is that they're the only ones who truly understand each other, but the reality is that they've been through so many things already, have spent way too many years training alongside each other to know that the loud exhale is more than an expression of fatigue, or that Baekhyun leaning his head on Jongdae's shoulder is actually a call for help, reserved for when Baekhyun feels like quitting idol life already, when expectations weight down on him. Baekhyun is always there, has always been there, and Jongdae simply isn't the type to write someone off so easily just because he has found himself a cooler set of friends.

Jongdae was there when Baekhyun signed the document stating that the doctors would no longer attempt to revive his grandmother if her blood pressure ever dropped again, was there when Baekhyun bowed to his grandmother's coffin one last time, when Baekhyun took some soil and cast it upon the coffin as it was being lowered. Baekhyun was there, too, when Jongdae had fallen to his knees and cried in the middle of recording his fourth studio album after learning of his family's death. 

"I don't have time to keep wondering about it," Jongdae finally says after a while. "So, rehearsals tomorrow?"

"Yeah, tomorrow." He can hear Sunyoung's voice in the distance, telling him to double-check the guest list for one last time. "Come in earlier? _I need you to keep me sane._ "

Jongdae clicks his tongue and he counts to three, until Baekhyun makes a sound of protest and finally says _please?_ "Yeah, yeah, whatever. You can't live without me."

"Of course." A pause, and then, "You're the best!"

Jongdae hangs up after a while and pads to his room, making his way to the closet where his suit is. He takes it out and hangs it on the hook on the door. He can still remember the look on Baekhyun's face when he'd fitted the suit, the way Baekhyun rested his hands on Jongdae's shoulders, hands sliding down until they were on Jongdae's own. "You look good," Baekhyun had said then. "Maybe better than I do."

He shakes his head and falls back into his bed. It's only afternoon, yet he feels like crawling beneath the sheets and just curling up there, wrapping the blankets around him like a cocoon, but he'd promised to turn in a couple of compositions by the end of the day, for the group that's just about to debut. He quickly gets back on his feet, but the beeping of his phone reaches out to him like arms pulling him down on the bed. _sounds SMP enough,_ the message reads, and Jongdae doesn't reply; instead, he waits for the sticker that will inevitably come, because this is Joonmyun, and sending stickers is part of Joonmyun's routine.

 _He_ is part of Joonmyun's routine.

 _think you can come here to check some of the material i need to send off tonight?_ Jongdae texts, and for a moment he feels like the roles are reversed, like he's the one seeking validation from Joonmyun and not the other way around. _i need a second opinion. it's good but i'm not too happy about it at the moment._

_i think you're exploiting the knowledge that i can clock out anytime, hyung c;  
i can drop by before my gig? then you can dress me up and we can go to heaven together  
i mean the club!!!_

Jongdae snorts, rolling over so that he's lying on his stomach. _sounds good. excited to go to heaven with you c:_

_i'll take you there  
better buckle up for the ride c;_

 

 

Joonmyun ends up humming the song the whole car ride to Heaven, shifting in his seat everytime they reach a red traffic light. "Private cars make me feel weird," he says out of the blue, and Jongdae stops counting down the seconds until the light turns green again, turning to his side to get a glimpse of Joonmyun's face.

"Only private ones? Cabs are fine?"

"Yeah. I ride cabs on a daily basis."

Jongdae waits for laughter because that's what Joonmyun uses to punctuate most of his sentences with, but tonight his lips are drawn to a thin line, and his eyes are sharp. He's abandoned the all-black attire and is wearing maroon tonight, and he looks a lot less pale now with the color lending a bit of warmth to his cheeks. It's like a marriage of old and new, and Joonmyun's stuck between the best of both worlds, stuck in limbo with his fixed on the car in front of them.

"You look like a robot. Do you have motion sickness?" Jongdae turns down the radio a little, then tapos Joonmyun's thigh when he doesn't earn a response. "I can drive slowly; you just have to ask."

"Nah, I'm good. It's just…" Joonmyun looks out of the window, then traces patterns on the glass. it won't hold. "It's almost Chuseok."

Jongdae holds his breath up until the light turns green again, and he takes the slightly more scenic route to Heaven. They have enough time.

Joonmyun is silent for the rest of the trip, only speaking up again when he excuses himself to head to the stage to prepare for his performance. "I'll be at the bar," Jongdae says, remembering that the sound still reaches that part of the club despite the roaming lights only reaching up until the dance floor. There's a short introduction before Joonmyun starts playing — he's alone again tonight, and he's got his loop pedal with him to keep him company on stage. The patrons of Heaven have always been generous with cheers and praise; no performer is truly alone once he steps on the platform.

He almost jumps in his seat when the crowd asks for an encore, and Joonmyun delivers, singing two more songs with the band performing next. The first is one of Joonmyun's originals, but the arrangement has been reworked a bit, a second layer of guitar and the light beats of the drums adding more depth to the melody of the song. _Careful with the percussion,_ a voice at the back of Jongdae's mind says, and he simply laughs a little when he hears Joonmyun's vocals soar above the instrumentals.

 _It's almost Chuseok._ Only three more months until auditions for The Voice begin, three more months until Joonmyun has already soaked up everything that he can possibly learn about singing properly and finding the right songs for his tone.

Joonmyun learns too quick. Jongdae wonders how long it would take for Joonmyun to unlearn him.

The second song starts with Joonmyun tapping his guitar, lightly at first then gaining cadence after four counts. "This kid's impossible," Jongdae mumbles under his breath, and he quickly grabs his drink, leaving the bar to witness the last song of Joonmyun's set.

Joonmyun's got the biggest smile on his lips. The members of the band are all at the side, and Joonmyun's left to his own devices again, just him and his voice and his guitar, the loop pedal adding a twist to the bland arrangement as he adds layer upon layer of light sounds that come together in one nice melody. Joonmyun steps forward, finally singing into the microphone, and Jongdae breaks out into a grin, a burning sensation at the corners of his lips as he bobs his head to the beat of the music.

The end of the performance is met with a round of applause, and the chit chat all around Jongdae dissolves as Joonmyun bows to the crowd. The crowd cheers for another set of songs, and this time Joonmyun laughs into the microphone, saying, "I'm all out of tricks now, sorry. We will see each other again, Heaven!"

"That was some show out there," Jongdae says once Joonmyun arrives at the bar. The smile on his lips is loose and relaxed, and the corners of his eyes crinkle. There isn't a trace of the furrow of his eyebrows anymore. Jongdae pats the seat beside his, and Joonmyun laughs a little in response.

"I was feeling a bit adventurous," Joonmyun confesses. He turns to the bartender and orders a Long Island, then snatches Jongdae's glass of whiskey to take a small sip. "How was it?"

"Good, because you actually didn't use the drumbeats. Good that you're listening to your teacher." Jongdae ends with a wink, and Joonmyun simply shakes his head. The roaming lights catch on the edges of Joonmyun's hair, and for a moment Joonmyun seems as if he's glowing, the light in his eyes as he tilts his head and gives Jongdae a long look brighter than ever.

"They say it's my special skill, listening." Joonmyun takes another sip. "It takes a lot of practice."

Jongdae snatches his glass back. He's driving tonight, and he can't afford to be too reckless if he isn't planning to get a cab home. He can put Joonmyun in a cab in Cheongdam; at least Jongdae is sure that the neighborhood there is friendlier, and it's nearer to Apgeujong than Heaven is.

"Mine's selective hearing," Jongdae quips. "When you're an idol, you have to learn to tune out a lot of voices."

"Until the only one that matters stands out?"

Jongdae rests the glass back down on the counter. "There are some stubborn ones that weasel their way inside, y'know? Tiny voices, ones that come with a guitar riff."

Joonmyun's drink is finally served, and he runs his thumb along the length of the glass. "Sneaky," Joonmyun comments, and Jongdae simply laughs into the glass, completely forgetting that he can't hide his smile behind it. Joonmyun's voice is already whispery as it is, and the hiphop beats simply drown it out all the more, so Jongdae moves closer until their knees bump and their elbows graze each other. It sends a sliver of electricity up his arm.

"Tell me, then," Joonmyun begins after a while, then shifts in his seat so that they're facing each other. "Whatever you want to say. If you need someone to listen, then I'm your man."

 _My best friend's getting married in two days._ It's the easiest way to say it — no tricks, no frills, the way it has always been between him and Baekhyun. Baekhyun makes everything feel so easy, makes things come too easy — the light upward tug on the corners of Jongdae's lips, the way Jongdae's chin just fits _there_ when he rests it on Baekhyun's shoulder. _He's getting married and everyone's moving on and I keep moving backwards._ Kyungsoo's on an Asia concert tour and he's living the life Jongdae had once wanted for himself, living the life Jongdae had made _for him._

Jongdae takes a deep breath, then a sip of his drink. "Baekhyun's getting married in two days."

"Oh." Joonmyun places his glass on the counter and turns to his side completely, his knees now digging into Jongdae's thigh. "Are you..." He licks his lips then worries them, then tilts his head to the side. "Are you going to be part of the ceremony?"

Jongdae laughs a little. "I'm the best man. No one else would accept the job." He snorts, then scratches the back of his neck. "More like he forced it upon me. I didn't have a choice."

"You always have a choice, hyung," Joonmyun says now. He rests his palm flat on Jongdae's thigh. Jongdae can feel the surge of warmth and the tingling sensation creeping up his nape; it's makes his stomach turn. It's unsettling. People don't always have a choice, he wants to tell Joonmyun. Sometimes, you're just put on the spot and a situation is shoved in your face, and you're only given five seconds to react. So you go with what you've grown accustomed to — a smile, light laughter, the word 'yes' dripping from your lips. It's not as if he hadn't tried to put up a fight when Baekhyun asked — _"Are you seriously going to kill me, Baekhyunnie—" "Stop it, Jongdae."_ Baekhyun had just been the more stubborn one, and Jongdae had been relenting.

Jongdae takes a deep breath. "And I've chosen to make him happy."

Joonmyun presses his lips thinly, a small smile at the corners of his lips. He gives Jongdae's thigh a light squeeze, then he turns in his seat again, facing front now. Jongdae closes his eyes, letting the beats of the dance music fill his senses, but it's Joonmyun's voice that stands out. It's Joonmyun's voice that rings in his ears and plays like a broken record. "You deserve to be happy, too, you know," Joonmyun says after a while, and Jongdae opens his eyes — slowly, fighting the pull of alcohol — and turns to face Joonmyun.

Happiness isn't a leisure he has. His own happiness is not his decision to make.

 

 

Jongdae drops by Baekhyun's place and claims ownership over Baekhyun's place, insisting that they take Baekhyun's car to Busan since _it's your party, anyway._ "It would have been great if Soo could make it, you know," Baekhyun says now, eyes not leaving the road. He takes a sharp right turn, cursing when a car nearly cuts him from the right, and Jongdae simply laughs.

"Sunyoung's gonna kill you if you keep driving like that."

Baekhyun snorts. "I'm a better driver than she is. She's in good hands."

Joonmyun's morning greeting had been, _sorry, i wasn't able to text. i crashed as soon as i got home :c_ ; the second installment was, _i'm alive, though. hope you'll have a great day, hyung!_ There hadn't been any stickers after that, nor had there been anything else, so Jongdae turns up the radio in the hope of catching a good enough song to recommend to Joonmyun, or to at least talk to him about.

"I heard from Taeng-noona that you brought the kid to the company one time." Baekhyun steps on the brakes, then shifts in his seat as he turns to Jongdae. "How's that coming along?"

Jason Mraz starts singing on the radio — it's one of the songs he'd heard Joonmyun humming a few days back, as he got dressed and Jongdae tried to remedy the fashion disaster. Joonmyun's tone suits Mraz's songs well, but he has to be extra careful with the low notes — Mraz has an excellent range, and Joonmyun will need to practice more if he wants to be anything like him.

"He's good," Jongdae replies, then fishes for his phone from his pocket. _have you ever considered doing "i'm coming over"?_ Jongdae types in the chat box, then hits send as soon as he's done. "Great deal of improvement, actually. I've been attending a lot of his gigs—"

"Oh? So that's what you've been doing with your spare time."

 _Spare time—_ Half the time, he's in the studio, working on a couple of tracks that can be for anyone — sometimes, he thinks about Taeyeon's voice and how it would go well with Jonghyun's, then there are times when he thinks of finally choking up enough courage to write a song for Boa. Jaejoong's voice still rings in his ears from time to time, but mostly it's been Joonmyun's voice that's there, an extended stay in his mind, and every song he hears on the radio starts to sound a lot like Joonmyun singing with his trusty guitar and his loop pedal.

"I play the role of the amazing best man, too," Jongdae retorts, punching Baekhyun lightly on the arm. "I'm good at time management."

"Sure you are," is all that Baekhyun says. A message from Joonmyun comes in — _i tried. really hard,_ accompanied by a recording. _i did this a long time ago. don't judge!!_

 _i'll listen to this later. best man duties,_ he replies, then wiggles his toes in his shoes. "I'm also good at keeping it in, you know, when the call of nature is—"

" _Jongdae—_ "

They soon reach a red light, and Baekhyun launches a few punches, jabbing Jongdae on the arm. The light pain doesn't numb his limbs, but it does send a weird sensation to the pit of his stomach. He waits for it — the tingling feeling at the tips of his fingers, the shivers running down his spine, but he gets none of these even when he looks up to take in all of Baekhyun's laughter, the sweet voice he'd once come to live with and live _on_ during his darkest times.

Three short beeps, and the radio plays another song. Jongdae unlocks his phone and laughs a little at Joonmyun's messages.

_say it: you don't have faith in my abilities!  
kidding, hyung!! have a great day. please extend my congratulations to baekhyun-ssi c:  
and hyung? good luck c:_

 

 

Baekhyun's alcohol tolerance is passable, at best, but if there's anyone who's laughable at best, it has to be Chanyeol. Halfway through his fourth bottle of beer sees Chanyeol dancing on top of the table, and Jonghyun armed with his phone. Jinki and Minho are on the floor, beads of tears forming at the corners of their eyes, and Jongdae hasn't surfaced from laughing just yet, arms wrapped around himself and face buried in a pillow.

"You'd think that he's gotten better with all the practice he's had," Baekhyun says now, long after Chanyeol has finally succumbed to the call of fatigue and has curled up beside Minho on the couch. "Pity Boa-noona couldn't pass on her superior drinking skills to him."

"A mentor can only do so much," Jongdae replies, then takes a sip of his own beer. He'd confined himself to just soju earlier, saying that he hated the aftertaste of beer, but the soju had been depleted way too fast — Jinki was the culprit, but he was the last to fall prey to it and eventually into a state of inebriation. "I think Kyungsoo's a better drinker than I am. I don't even know how that's possible."

Baekhyun snorts. "Confession time: I think he sings better than you do." Jongdae raises an eyebrow at him, and Baekhyun soon doubles over in laughter, but promptly hides his grin behind his hand. "Whoops. Sorry. You can maim me tonight if you don't want me to get married tomorrow—"

 _Funny you should say that,_ Jongdae says in his mind. Baekhyun has never been the most careful with his words, always stumbling on the rehearsed spiel and somehow getting himself and the group he used to be in in trouble, but he manages to salvage himself, somehow. Two things about Baekhyun appeal to the masses — his voice, and his spontaneity. The first has garnered him a lot of fans who stayed long after the group's disbandment, even until now that he's hosting and no longer singing. The second has garnered him friends and foes alike. It has also nearly gotten him and Jongdae into trouble too many times — all those chaste kisses behind curtains and in between practices, in rooftops and staircases. _My gut's smarter than my brain, so I listen to it all the time,_ Baekhyun always says. _It's been wrong a few times, but I can't say I haven't enjoyed all those experiences._

"I still wonder, y'know, how you managed to convince Sunyoung that this whole marriage thing was a good idea."

Baekhyun looks around them — Jonghyun had disappeared to Lord knows where, but Jongdae's not too worried — they've found Jonghyun sleeping in the bathroom before, and he'd only complained about aching muscles the morning after. Jinki's lying flat on the floor, and Chanyeol's scrambling for space while Minho's curling up on whatever's free space is left on the couch. "Outside?" Baekhyun says, cocking his head in the direction of the veranda, and Jongdae follows suit, bottle still in hand.

The wind has gotten much colder from all those rainy days. Seoul at two in the morning has never been the friendliest, not with people who aren't fond of cool winds, and Jongdae scrunches his nose when the breeze blows at them again. "You asked… how I managed to con Sunyoung into doing this with me," Baekhyun begins, then turns around so that he's leaning on the railing. The wind tousles his hair, and his cheeks are still flush with all the alcohol he's had. "That was easy. I just told her I had a crazy idea and I wanted to spend the rest of my life with the person who'd gotten me out of my worst slump ever. You're asking the wrong question."

Jongdae laughs a little. Baekhyun doesn't have the best sense of literature when it comes to expressing himself, but trust him to say what he means and nothing else. Baekhyun's honesty has always been something Jongdae has envied, has wanted to have, but that kind of honesty takes time, too. It takes training and guts and a different brand of confidence. Jongdae doesn't have that; it's too late to teach an old dog new tricks.

Baekhyun moves closer. Their arms brush. Baekhyun is so warm, just what Jongdae needs with the cold breeze around them. He tightens his grip on his bottle. "Come on, Jongdae. Ask another question."

"Hmmm." Jongdae worries his bottom lip, then lifts his eyes to meet Baekhyun's own. "I don't know, man. I'm too buzzed." He scrunches his nose, and Baekhyun only moves closer. He can feel Baekhyun's knuckles digging into his skin, and if he ever decides to slip his fingers between the pads of Baekhyun's hands, he can always blame it on the alcohol. "Why… Why hadn't it been us?"

Baekhyun chuckles, then pushes himself away from the railings. He's standing in front of Jongdae now, a bottle in one hand, the other freely hanging in his side. Ten, eleven years back, Jongdae would have easily just grumbled something in response to Baekhyun telling him that he's wrong, and Baekhyun would have appeased him by tugging on his wrist and pulling him close for a kiss. Years ago, it would have been easy to find a comfortable fit in Baekhyun's arms, would have been easy to think of stealing five minutes from each other, bodies pressed against each other in the dark, the open press of the mouth wet and warm. But they're much older now, and they no longer have the leisure of playing around, pushing each other against the wall to ask for a few minutes of respite and a kiss. Baekhyun's getting married tomorrow, and Sunyoung would probably be the most beautiful woman Jongdae has ever seen, and Jongdae is Baekhyun's best man.

"Because neither of us had the balls to actually define what we were back then." Baekhyun exhales loudly then wraps his arms around himself, quickly seething when he feels the cool press of the bottle on his skin. "And we had different dreams then, the two of us. We were working towards two different things."

"Two different things," Jongdae echoes, voice drifting off into laughter. He has gone through the same rigorous program as Baekhyun, has promoted in the same shows, has even shared the same style with Baekhyun at one point of his career, shortly after Baekhyun had gone solo. They've spent every Seollal and Chuseok together for the past three years — they have the same dreams. They're both working towards being the best idols they can ever be, music icons of Korea that people will never forget. "What do you mean we had different dreams?"

"You… didn't know what you really wanted then," Baekhyun says now. He's rubbing his hands up and down his arms, and Jongdae chokes down the urge to wrap his arms around Baekhyun. "I've only wanted one thing since I was young, and that was to perform in front of people. So I did exactly that. I grew tired of that after a while and it turns out my vocal chords did, too." He's chuckling now, but he sounds hoarse, the constant blowing of the cold wind wrapping around his neck like a vice. "And then I had a thing for you, so I figured I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, but you were all, _no, we're idols, we've got an image to maintain. We can't give up what we've worked so hard for—_ "

"Okay, okay, I get it." Jongdae slaps Baekhyun on the arm, and Baekhyun nearly topples over. "But I did that for _us_. If we did try to work things out, maybe we won't even be here anymore."

Baekhyun snorts, an eyebrow raised. "And you'd know because? You've always put your idol dreams in front of what your heart wants, Jongdae. And look at you now — dragging your ass to your idol job and complaining that you don't get enough rest and sex life or whatever. Fine, you asked for a break, but you're still working your ass off while helping other people out." Baekhyun does a pirouette, but he slams his foot into the railing, falling into Jongdae's arms. Baekhyun's quick to recover and to get back to his feet, but Jongdae can still feel the sting of Baekhyun's warmth on his skin. "You don't have to make yourself miserable all the time just to see other people happy, you know."

"I think it's a price I have to pay." His mind goes back to that Seollal, the road trip he was supposed to have with his parents and his brother, how he'd cancelled on the very last minute because his manager called him and said that he needed to promote his new song at Chocolate, _sorry for the short notice, but you have to do this show._ "The one time I could actually give up work, that I actually _had_ to give it up, I didn't. And I let my family die in a stupid car accident and lived to tell the tale."

"Can you even hear yourself? Dae—" Baekhyun shakes him, lightly at first, and then much harder the second and third time. His mind is spinning from the alcohol and the jerking motion, and the memories of the family he'd left in favor of _a fucking TV guesting for just one song_ , and Baekhyun's hands are warm on his shoulder. Baekhyun's words cut like glass, though. "That was _years_ ago. Heck they died even before _halmeoni_ did and I've gotten over that!"

Jongdae snorts, poking Baekhyun is his side until Baekhyun lets his hands fall to his sides. "Because you had Sunyoung — she helped you deal with the loss."

Baekhyun takes a step back, the scowl he'd once had on softening around the edges. " _You_ helped me get through the loss. _She_ helped me get over it. But not without helping myself, too, you know." Baekhyun gives him a few pats on the arm, and Jongdae can feel the wind blowing again. It's gotten much colder without Baekhyun pressed to his side, but then— "Help yourself; then, it will be easier for other people to help you."

Jongdae lets out a loud exhale, and he punches Baekhyun lightly on the cheek, careful not to leave any bruises. Baekhyun has a different challenge to tackle tomorrow, a new dream to work towards. Jongdae will help him get there. "Since when have you gotten so wise, hmm?"

Baekhyun gives him a long look before snaking an arm around Jongdae's shoulder. The familiar warmth in his side is comforting, and when Baekhyun rests his head on Jongdae's shoulder, he can feel the tension in his muscles disappearing along with the blowing wind.

"Ever since, big shot." Jongdae elbows Baekhyun, and Baekhyun doesn't suppress the cackle that slips from his lips. "Ever since."

 

 

Jongdae lies flat on his back, earbuds plugged and connected to his phone. He pulls up a playlist of recordings, then adds a new one — Joonmyun's recording of _93 Million Miles_ — closing his eyes after hitting shuffle. The soft melody is soothing, and Joonmyun's sweet voice — the high notes and the low ones, even the ones where his voice cracks a little — drape over him like a blanket, easing the tension in his muscles and lulling him to sleep.

 

 

Baekhyun bawls like a kid at the wedding. Jonghyun manages to capture it on video, but not without having his fair share of tears. At one point, Jonghyun hands over the camera to Taeyeon who's having a harder time keeping it together whenever he sees Jonghyun's tear-stained cheeks, and Jongdae simply smiles at them, then reaches over to where Baekhyun is just before Sunyoung emerges from the doors.

"Live the dream, kid," Jongdae whispers, and Baekhyun's half-smiling, half-trying not to cry when he turns to Jongdae and punches him lightly on the arm.

The biggest surprise of the wedding is when Kyungsoo shows up at the reception, hair slicked back and a huge, apologetic smile on his lips.

It's Jongdae who first catches sight of him all the way from the far end of the hall, and Kyungsoo speeds past him as he makes his way to where Baekhyun and Sunyoung are. "I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the ceremony. My flight was delayed," he says, and Baekhyun simply waves it off, giving him a one-armed hug as Sunyoung laughs at him.

Jongdae walks up to the group and rests a hand on Kyungsoo's shoulder. "I'll take care of the guest," he tells Baekhyun, winking, and ushers Kyungsoo to the side, leading him to the buffet table.

Kyungsoo hasn't changed much — he's still small and he still wears his hair black, but there are dark circles under his eyes now, and his cheeks have sort of hollowed out. He isn't stick-thin, but he looks smaller than he had been in the past. _Don't be silly; people stop growing at the age of 21,_ Kyungsoo will probably tell him if he ever says it out loud, so he stays silent, only looking over his shoulder occasionally to check if Kyungsoo hasn't run off somewhere else.

"I can find the buffet table by my own, hyung," Kyungsoo finally says, chuckling. Jongdae can see the corners of his lips lift, his eyes softening. "I'm not a kid anymore."

" _Anymore,_ " Jongdae echoes. He waits for Kyungsoo to reach his side, then pulls him close to ruffle Kyungsoo's hair. "You'll always be my baby."

Kyungsoo looks at him, just looks at him, with his large eyes and his gaze that can cut him wide open at first glance. There's a question written in the way he furrows his eyebrows, in the way he quirks his lips and darts out his tongue. "Yours?" Kyungsoo asks, then scoffs as he walks a little past Jongdae. His arms feel heavy on his sides, like Kyungsoo has transferred some of the weight of his heavy stare on them. "I don't think so."

Kyungsoo has begun walking off now, so Jongdae quickens his pace, trying to catch up. Kyungsoo has always been like this — quick to move, quick to react, quick to walk away from situations that make him feel uneasy, and Jongdae has to try his hardest to keep up with him, be it through a verse or by reaching out to slips his hand in Kyungsoo's. "You came from my hypothetical womb, Kyungsoo! Technically, you're only three years old!" He quickly clasps a hand over his mouth when he realizes that his voice is at least an octave higher and can cut through all the noise, if he wanted to, and Kyungsoo simply shakes his head, steps much larger now despite his short legs.

He stops in his tracks, almost falling on all fours when Kyungsoo abruptly stops in front of him. He holds onto Kyungsoo's shoulders for balance and Kyungsoo lets him, but only how a while — soon, Kyungsoo is shrugging off his hold, torso twisted in preparation of getting back on his journey to where the food is. "Don't say things you don't mean, hyung," Kyungsoo says when he looks over his shoulder.

"Can you at least get me a pop tart?"

Kyungsoo hasn't slowed down from his walk, and Jongdae only get a raised middle finger as a reply.

Baekhyun and Sunyoung are already dancing when Kyungsoo slips beside Jongdae, taking the seat beside his. Most of the kids have joined the couple, and some of their common friends have either gone out for a smoke or have shuffled to the side to take pictures. Jongdae has already had his fair share, and his body is still suffering from too much alcohol the night before. "Here's your pop tart," Kyungsoo says, handing him the small treat, and Jongdae simply laughs when he takes it.

"You didn't squish it with your tiny hands? Were you holding it the whole time?"

"Don't be silly, hyung. I ate the one I took earlier; I just got another one for you." Kyungsoo moves closer, and Jongdae can feel the warm press of Kyungsoo's thigh against his. "I may be a snob but I'm not that bad."

"Just a runt," Jongdae comments. He bumps his shoulder into Kyungsoo's, and Kyungsoo erupts into a peal of giggles, contained only when Jongdae elbows him in his side, and then again, and again, and Kyungsoo fights back by stomping on his foot, to which someone they both don't know tells them, "Are you twelve?"

"I'd love to be young again," Jongdae mumbles when the lady is well out of sight. Baekhyun looks as if he wants to give up now and just take a seat, legs sore and overworked, but Sunyoung hasn't expended all of her energy just yet. Baekhyun's relenting, always generous when it comes to Sunyoung's requests, and despite fatigue pulling his shoulders down, there's still a smile at the corners of his lips. "Kids have it easier. No need to worry about all the adult things."

"That's because you worry about anything and everything," Kyungsoo replies. His eyes are fixed on the dance floor, and occasionally he follows the spotlights with his gaze. Kyungsoo hasn't lost that yet, his fascination for light, and the faintest smile surfaces on his lips when the red and yellow spotlights meet halfway. "Only one of us can be miserable, hyung. And that certainly shouldn't be you."

Jongdae leans back in his seat, and he throws his head back as he closes his eyes. Kyungsoo's steady breathing has always been oddly comforting, and even with all the noise around them, it soars above all other sounds. He can feel Kyungsoo's hand on his knee, the warmth seeping through his dress slacks, and he parts his lips, like if he doesn't say something right now, he'll never be able to ever again.

"Is there someone?" he asks. Kyungsoo's grip on his knee tightens, then eases after a while. "Is there anyone you're seeing right now?"

Kyungsoo's nails graze his thigh as Kyungsoo drops his hand to his side. He opens his eyes a little, keeping his defenses just halfway up. Beside him, Kyungsoo laughs, and he can hear a bit of Kyungsoo's youth there, the same kid he'd recruited to be in his team, the person who almost won him first place in The Voice. He clenches and unclenches his fists. "Idols don't get the leisure of being reckless," Kyungsoo says after a while. "Or maybe I do, but I just don't… want to ruin this moment, not now."

"Not even a short-time thing? A 'let's get wild and crazy and make out backstage' kind of thing?" Jongdae chuckles. "Everybody has those, to spice up their—"

"Hyung." Kyungsoo's sitting up now, body facing Jongdae, and Jongdae can feel Kyungsoo's knees digging into his thigh. Kyungsoo's lips are drawn to a thin, thin line, but there's the hint of a smile there, a light curl at the corners. It has always been hard to read Kyungsoo when his shields are up, but there's nothing but fatigue and three long years between them scrawled on Kyungsoo's features. "I'm… okay. That's about it. My job makes me feel alive. I haven't killed any of the staff yet." He snorts, and Jongdae finds himself chuckling in accord. Kyungsoo has a weird way of expressing himself sometimes. "It's a pretty good place to be in right now, this… state of contentment."

"Contentment?" Jongdae folds one leg under his thigh, twisting his torso so that he can see Kyungsoo's face better. "Sounds like you're settling."

"Contentment is a choice, just like happiness." Kyungsoo takes a deep breath, and when he exhales the tight-lipped smile dissipates, now replaced with a softer smile. "A tough choice, but it's better than choosing to be miserable."

_You don't have to make yourself miserable all the time just to see other people happy, you know._

Jongdae gives the pop tart in his hand a long look, then turns back to Kyungsoo, reaching out to ruffle his hair. "A tough decision for tough cookie like you," he says, crooning, and he retracts his hand even before Kyungsoo can swat it away, before Kyungsoo can have a chance to reel him back in and leave scars on his arm like he'd done years ago.

 _Help yourself; then, it will be easier for other people to help you,_ he hears Baekhyun saying at the back of his mind. He fishes his phone from his pocket and smiles when he sees three KKT notifications, all with Joonmyun's name on them.

 

 

Seoul doesn't make it easy for nighttime drivers to make their way from one place to another. Bucheon's streets are easy to navigate at night, but Cheongdam's much too far away, a two-hour drive that feels twice as long on the limbs. Jongdae pulls up his driving playlist to keep him awake, but it's Joonmyun's voice recordings that get him through most on the drive home.

He tumbles into his bed as soon as he strips of his suit, and curls up in the middle, phone clutched to his chest as the last few notes of Joonmyun's song play. _you still up?_ he texts Joonmyun after a while, and it takes under a minute for Joonmyun to reply.

_yeah, i'm good to talk. what's up, hyung? c:_

He normally wouldn't call people past nine in the evening, but his mind is much too clouded with Baekhyun's and Kyungsoo's voices, a cacophony that sometimes interrupts Joonmyun's slow humming in his head. It's been easier to drown out while he was still in Bucheon, talking to people left and right, but now, in the silence of his room with nothing but the white noise to fill his ears, there's nothing to keep him from hearing the dissonance again and again.

He takes a deep breath, then dials Joonmyun's number, pressing his phone close to his ear as he waits for the dial tone to be replaced with a familiar voice.

"Hyung?" Some static in the background, then, "You're… calling."

"Yeah, I just—" Jongdae rolls over, lying flat on his back, and he grabs one of the pillows nearby to hug it close to his chest. "Tell me about your day? Have you been working again? It's the weekend, Joonmyun; you should getting some—"

On the other end of the line, Joonmyun chuckles. It sends a familiar sizzle of heat down his stomach, and Jongdae wants to hang up and curl in on himself again, throw the covers over his head and try to drown out Baekhyun and Kyungsoo's voices in his head. That, and the sinking sensation in his stomach that each and every sound Joonmyun makes gives him. "You're rambling. Are you okay?," Joonmyun asks, and for a moment Jongdae's thankful that Joonmyun can't see him burying his face in the sheets.

"Just talk, Joonmyun." He worries bottom lip, suddenly all too aware of the silence on the other end of the line, and he feels a surge of heat rush to his cheeks when he hears Joonmyun's light laughter. " _Please_ , Joonmyunnie?"

"Ah…" Joonmyun takes a deep breath. "Well… My day wasn't that exciting. I mean…" He does that small noise, the half-amused, half-shy one, and he hums a little before he continues, "I work at a hagwon. I mean I own one, so… What do you want me to teach you?"

Jongdae laughs a little. "Anything but music?" He pushes himself off the bed so he can sit, back against the pillow resting near the headboard. "Because I know more about that than you do."

"Won't that be a great test to see if you've been an effective teacher, though?"

Jongdae rolls his eyes, and he doesn't have to press his ear even closer to hear Joonmyun laughing. He's got that sound filed in his mind, a melody he's come to find comforting at weird, odd moments. "Then you'll have to sing me to sleep," Jongdae teases, and Joonmyun only laughs harder, his voice reaching that sweet high note that haunts Jongdae even in his sleep.

"What do you want me to start with then?"

"Anything. I just…" Jongdae takes a deep breath and sinks into the pillow. "I just want to hear your voice."

Jongdae can't make out the faint sound at the other end of the line, but Joonmyun starts humming a few seconds after, singing a song that Jongdae recognizes from the set Joonmyun had performed in ZZYZX. He closes his eyes, imagining Joonmyun playing the guitar, fingers strumming the strings and plucking from time to time. He imagines the way Joonmyun tilts his head just slightly when he hits a high note, imagines the slow upward tug at the corners of Joonmyun's lips, the gentle slope of the bridge of his nose. The smooth curve of his face and the stretch of his neck and how soft his skin had been when Jongdae accidentally-on purpose brushed his hand against Joonmyun's skin.

Jongdae sings the last few lines with Joonmyun, taking his voice one octave lower as their voices blend into one solid tune.

He takes a deep breath and smiles.

 

 

Chuseok draws dangerously nearer, and by the end of the first week of September the winds starts blowing harder, a cool blanket wrapping around Jongdae when he slips out of his car to give Baekhyun and Sunyoung a tight hug before seeing them off. The sun is up high and his shirt sticks to his back, but Baekhyun lets his hand linger on the thin veil of clothing keeping their skins from making contact.

"You two give me a call or text when you get there, okay?" he says, then waves at the two, a newly wedded couple out to conquer even greater challenges.

"Yeah, yeah, we will." Baekhyun jabs Jongdae on the arm, and Jongdae chokes down the tiny yelp that almost escapes his lips. "Don't spend the whole of Chuseok worrying about us, okay?"

"I won't think about you _at all!_ " Jongdae calls out, and they both disappear into the corner, luggages in tow.

The past three Chuseok celebrations have been spent finishing new album tracks for his comeback, but he'd asked Joonmyun if he had plans for the next three days and Joonmyun had said, as if it was obvious, "Do I look like a person who actually has enough time to do something on Chuseok?" Taking a break is mandatory if you're not working in the service industry, though, and Jongdae ends up inviting Joonmyun to do _something_ on Chuseok. He'll work out the specifics later.

The agreement was to meet in Hongdae to catch brunch at Organic, but Joonmyun had called to say he had something to fix in the Apgeujong office before he could fully put his mind at ease. "Just let me know when you're already in the area," Joonmyun had said, and Jongdae asked for the exact address, knowing all too well that in Joonmyun's current state, he'd give it away without question.

So three in the afternoon finds him walking down the streets of Apgeujong, crossing a few familiar coffee shops he'd once hung out at when he was much younger, when he was still fresh from debuting. Joonmyun's office shouldn't be far off, and when he spots a tall, yellow building in the midst of all the low-rise ones and the small cafes, he walks in its direction without a second thought.

He takes the elevator to the third floor, letting out an exhale as the doors open. The signage in front of him reads "Ecclus Learning Center". He double-checks, pulling up the text from Joonmyun, then smoothes out his top when he confirms that he's in the right place. He then presses the buzzer, and a man who doesn't look much older than Joonmyun answers the door.

"Um, does a Kim Joonmyun work here?" Jongdae asks, taking a step closer. The place looks smaller than the average _hagwon_ from the outside, but soon Jongdae catches sight of a passageway and he's thoroughly convinced that, like Joonmyun, this place has a couple of tricks up its sleeve.

"Ah, Joonmyun's working on a couple of documents at the moment." The man smiles at him, then gestures for him to take a seat. "I'll let him know he has a visitor, though. Can I get your name, please?"

"Kim— Jongdae—" comes a voice from behind the man who has welcomed him. "You're Kim Jongdae, right? The singer from SM Entertainment?"

Jongdae laughs a little, and he briefly forgets that there is standard idol behavior to be followed. This isn't Joonmyun, or Baekhyun or Kyungsoo, people Jongdae has known for a while already, people who have seen past Jongdae's prim and proper idol front and have left a mark in Jongdae's life with the voices that haunt him day and night. "Yes, that's right," he simply says, then wears his best smile as he extends a hand in the newcomer's direction. "It's nice to meet—"

 _"Hyung?"_ A more familiar voice this time, and Jongdae stands from his seat, the corners of his lips tugging up automatically. "I told you I'll just meet you somewhere! You didn't need to—"

Jongdae had expected a different kind of Joonmyun — maybe one in a more formal attire, a better-fitted blazer, hair brushed to the sides — but the Joonmyun right in front of him isn't any different from the one he has seen performing in Blue Moon and Heaven and ZZYZX, the same Joonmyun whose voice sets the staccato of his heartbeats in one fluid melody. "I was getting impatient," he reasons out, grinning, and Joonmyun just shakes his head and exhales loudly.

"So this is the same Jongdae—"

"Yes, hyung," Joonmyun tells the man smaller than the other. Jongdae doesn't know why there's collective laughter, but Joonmyun gives the two a stern look and the taller man bites his bottom lip in an attempt to suppress his laughter. "Oh, uh, Jongdae-hyung—" Joonmyun tugs at his wrist, and he takes a step closer. "These are some of the teachers here in the _hagwon_. This is Kim Minseok. Best math teacher around. This tall kid over here is Kim Jongin. He… is the unassuming physics wizard."

"It's all the soccer going on in his brain," Minseok whispers, and Jongdae chuckles in response. "Nice to finally meet you, Kim Jongdae-ssi. Joonmyunnie speaks highly of you."

 _Joonmyunnie._ Jongdae feels his throat tighten. "Highly and fondly," Jongin quips, and the tension in Jongdae's throat eases just a little.

"Okay, that's enough. You two still have to finish the syllabus for next week." Joonmyun ushers them back inside the main hall of the _hagwon_ , eyes narrowed at Jongin as Jongin whispers something and bursts into a peal of laughter. Minseok gives him one last wave, then snakes an arm around Jongin's shoulder as they walk straight ahead, then split at the end of the corridor. "I still can't believe you're actually here. I mean…" Joonmyun turns to him now, eyes fixed on the floor, and Jongdae watches as Joonmyun worries his bottom lip, trapping it between his teeth.

The curl at the corners of Joonmyun's lips is pretty. Jongdae takes a step forward, and Joonmyun finally looks up.

"Sorry, I just…" Jongdae laughs a little. He scratches the back of his ear a little, and he can feel a rush of heat to his cheeks. "I wanted to see you in your natural habitat, I guess?"

Joonmyun snorts, a small sound that isn't anything like his soft, soothing voice. " _Habitat?_ I'm not an animal, hyung."

"You're a teeny, tiny cat. A fluffy cat." Jongdae turns on his heel even before he can see his reflection just behind Joonmyun, on the metal surface. "Ready to go?"

"Just… gonna get my bags and leave the keys with Minseok-hyung." He can hear Joonmyun giggling, and he briefly wonders if Joonmyun can see right through him. "I'll be back in a while."

"Yeah, sure." Jongdae rubs the tip of his nose and stays rooted where he is. He can't wipe the crazy grin off his lips yet. "I'll be waiting."

The trip to Gangeung takes a little over three hours, and Joonmyun falls asleep on his shoulder halfway through the bus trip, a book in his right hand and his left hand warm on Jongdae's lap. Joonmyun had stolen one of Jongdae's earbuds earlier, and Jongdae becomes more conscious of the music playing in their ears when he feels the weight on his right arm shift.

He skips a few fast songs and puts his 'rainy days' playlist on shuffle. He can feel Joonmyun nuzzling his arm. He keeps his head hung low, face buried in Joonmyun's bright blond hair. He smells like coffee and mint and the pages of a book, but then Jongdae hasn't touched a real book in a while; maybe Joonmyun just smells like Joonmyun, and his voice is like a warm quilt wrapped around him on a cool winter afternoon.

He wakes up with a tiny jerk of the body when he feels someone holding his other hand, and it takes a few blinks to register that Joonmyun's reaching over to take control of the music. "Not feeling the slow songs?" he asks, voice still sticky with sleep, and Joonmyun shakes his head weakly, craning his neck until their noses bump.

"There's a fine line between boring and slow, hyung," Joonmyun teases, but he chokes on the last syllable and Jongdae finds himself laughing. There's a kid sitting opposite them, too busy with his DS, and there's a couple a few seats away, and Joonmyun's lips look so inviting in the soft afternoon light, and Joonmyun's holding onto his wrist tightly, his free hand snatching the iPod from Jongdae's grasp.

"Sneaky," Jongdae says, seething, but his speech dissolves into laughter when Joonmyun sticks out his tongue.

"Oh, hyung—" Joonmyun stops, then turns to him with a peculiar smile. He hasn't spend that much time in the daylight with Joonmyun yet, but he finds himself slowly growing fond of this smile, favoring it over the sly, teasing ones Joonmyun gives him when they're in the club and they're doing an assessment of Joonmyun's performance. Slowly, Joonmyun draws the iPod closer to Jongdae, flashing a series of songs in a playlist. "Really? You have these songs here?"

Jongdae remembers transferring the recordings from his phone to his iPod so he can play them in his car whenever he goes out for a drive. He remembers laughing at himself silly while syncing it and everytime he loads the playlist, remembers Joonmyun's expectant smile whenever he sits down with Jongdae after a performance. "I put those there so I can… study your voice better," he mumbles, and Joonmyun looks up at him, crinkles forming at the corners of his mouth as he bites hard on his lower lip.

They arrive at the terminal just as the playlist ends, and they transfer to bus 202, alighting only at the very last station. Joonmyun nearly hits Jongdae with his backpack when he tries wearing it on his back, and Jongdae sneaks a photo just before Joonmyun looks over his shoulder to see if Jongdae has already caught up. "You look extra tiny with that backpack you're wearing," Jongdae says between small fits of laughter, and Joonmyun pouts at him, bottom lip jutted and eyes squinted as he slaps Jongdae lightly on the arm.

They take a quick cab ride to check in their bags, then walk all the way to Gyeongpo Beach, a little under ten minutes from where their hotel is. It's almost five in the afternoon when they arrive, and the crowd has begun to thin when they set foot on the beach. The sand is warm the waters are calm, and steady blowing of the wind lifts some of the tension in Jongdae's muscles that travel has left there. "I haven't been on a trip recently, definitely not on Chuseok," Joonmyun says, and Joonmyun bends his knees, then sits on the sand.

He pats the space beside him and Jongdae follows suit, legs extended in front of him as they watch the waves crash to the shore.

The companionable silence stretches for another thirty minutes, and Joonmyun sinks into the sand, closing his eyes as he lets the warmth engulf him. "I'm glad we took a bus to Gangneung," Joonmyun says after a while. Jongdae shifts, turning in Joonmyun's direction, and he catches Joonmyun wiggling his fingers. "If you drove us all the way to the hotel, it probably would have been torture."

"You hate private cars that much? Jeez…" Jongdae waits for the perfunctory slap on the arm or a pinch, but Joonmyun stays still, breathing even and measured.

"I lost my parents to a car crash on Chuseok, around six years ago." Jongdae inches closer, and Joonmyun opens his eyes for a while, then raises his right hand in front of him, fingers spread out. "And then, two years ago, I was supposed to go on a trip with a good friend and he… he got into an accident."

"Still alive?"

"Barely," Joonmyun quickly answers. The laughter that spills from his lips is dry. "It _was_ a pretty stupid move, though. I told him not to drink because I knew he was driving and that it was going to be a long drive, but he still kept at it, and he was supposed to pick me up after work and then he got into this really nasty crash—"

"You don't have to continue if you don't have to, you know," Jongdae whispers. He cocks his head, eyes now fixed on Joonmyun, and from where he is Joonmyun looks years older, all the youth in his eyes swallowed by the sand.

"Nah, it's— I'm okay, it's been two years. And he's… changed. I can barely recognize him." He brings his hand down, resting it atop Jongdae's own. Joonmyun's fingers are cold in contrast with the sand, but the familiar warmth begins to surface on his lips again. "Being sad gets really draining after a while. I can't afford to be sullen in front of students."

"The books drain them enough as it is," Jongdae comments, and Joonmyun finally chuckles. His eyes disappear into half-moon crescents. Jongdae sighs.

They have dinner at a restaurant nearby, where the sand meets the shore, and Joonmyun makes the funniest sounds as he tries to crack a crab open and only ends up chipping off a bit of the shell. "There's a reason why I hate seafood!" he squeals, and Jongdae simply laughs at him, offering him the crab meat he has already gotten out of the shell, instead.

They walk along the stretch of the shoreline after dropping by a convenience store, each a bottle of soju to themselves. Joonmyun has the sparklers tucked under his arm, and he's walking far too fast, closer to the waves and further away from Jongdae. Jongdae's mind goes back to Seoul where Kyungsoo's probably discussing the details of his comeback album before curling up at home, because Seoul is always much easier to enjoy with all the noise flocking elsewhere, to provinces and tourist spots or even to other countries. "I feel like I'm getting a foot spa here, hyung!" Joonmyun calls out, and Jongdae's brought back to Gyeongpo, to his feet sinking in the wet sand, to Joonmyun waving one hand in the air, the bottle of soju gleaming just lightly when a sliver of light hits it.

"You get those often?" Jongdae asks once he's caught up. He wraps a hand around Joonmyun's wrist, dragging him closer to the shore. The waves are beginning to get stronger, and the wind tousles Joonmyun's already unmanageable hair.

"Not recently. I've been…" Joonmyun tilts his head, the corner of his lips tugging up as he looks at Jongdae. "Really busy." He clicks his tongue, but there's still the hint of amusement in the lilt of his his voice. "I wonder why."

"Tell me about it. There's this kid who keeps ruining my sleeping schedule—" Joonmyun pinches him in his side, and Jongdae erupts into a peal of laughter even as he trips and falls on the sand.

The waves have already calmed down by the time they uncap their soju bottles, and they each take a swig after bumping the bottles together. Joonmyun has fallen completely silent now, only humming occasionally. Jongdae can't find a pattern in the sudden burst of sound, not yet, and after another sip, he rests his hand on top of Joonmyun's, slipping his fingers between Joonmyun's own.

Joonmyun makes an indiscernible sound at the back of his throat and takes a long drink off his bottle.

Jongdae isn't drunk enough yet, but he slowly sinks in the sand, pulling Joonmyun down with him, on top of him. When he decided on a whim to head to Gyeongpo for Chuseok, away from his busy like in Gangnam and the noise he can't seem to get rid of, he'd somehow already made a decision to come back with a renewed sense of gratification. When he decided to pull Joonmyun with him on such short notice, he'd already set himself up for trouble, but Joonmyun hadn't complained despite the late night call, hadn't even questioned his choice of location or how they were going to get there. He'd only asked, "What time are we meeting up?", and Joonmyun had somehow known what to bring with him, what Jongdae needed.

Joonmyun is the cacophony that, strangely enough, sounds like music in Jongdae's ears.

Joonmyun gasps, hands trembling as he releases his hold from the bottle and the soju leaves a cool patch on his shirt. "Hyung, I'm sorry, I—" He can hear the panic and shock in the lilt of Joonmyun's voice, in the dissonance, but he pays no heed to it and simply snakes a hand up Joonmyun's nape, fingers tugging lightly on Joonmyun's hair.

He closes his eyes and lets the small gurgling sounds Joonmyun makes ease the fatigue in his limbs, but he opens his eyes wide when he feels the warm press of Joonmyun's lips — soft, light, _tentative_ — on the underside of his jaw.

"For getting your shirt wet," Joonmyun whispers, then buries his face in Jongdae's chest.

Jongdae takes a deep breath and hopes, really wishes hard, that Joonmyun can't hear the heavy beats in Jongdae's chest.

"Apology accepted."

 

 

Jongdae wakes up to the heavy press of Joonmyun's lips, warm and wet, on this neck.

He trembles a little at the sensation. Joonmyun stirs a bit, humming as he moves closer and catches some of Jongdae's skin between his lips. He remembers getting up from the sand last night after losing all the feeling in his arms, remembers Joonmyun apologizing for drooling on his shirt, remembers linking his fingers with Joonmyun's as they made their way back to the hotel, the five-minute walk turning into a fifteen-minute journey, steps stuttered and slowed down by tickling and tripping over each other's feet, laughter muffled by the press of the mouth on the arm, Joonmyun burying his face in Jongdae's chest.

He remembers tumbling into bed with Joonmyun, remembers pulling Joonmyun closer until Joonmyun was nuzzling his chest, remembers Joonmyun humming until he fell asleep.

He remembers the dull ache in his chest as he watched Joonmyun deep in slumber. It's the same ache that claws at his stomach when Joonmyun looks up at him, the corners of his lips pulled down by lethargy, and says, "Hey. Good morning."

"You were right when you said you sing in your sleep," Jongdae whispers, then presses his lips where the furrow of Joonmyun's eyebrows is deepest. "I kept waking up."

Joonmyun frowns, bottom lip jutting out as he blows some air. "I was just kidding when I said that. I didn't know it was actually—"

"I'm kidding," Jongdae interrupts. Joonmyun snarls, but his voice is much too honeyed with sleep for it to even sound the slightest bit offending. "Get up, sleepyhead. Breakfast is only until 10:30."

Joonmyun's left hand finds a home on Jongdae's lap for most of breakfast, the tips of his fingers dipping every so often. Jongdae can't even count the number of times he almost chokes on his coffee, and Joonmyun only chuckles whenever Jongdae does, bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

Joonmyun's shirt is too big for him, and it drops too low in front, exposing his collarbones. Jongdae wonders how it would feel to touch them again, skin on skin, Joonmyun's heat seeping through every part of his body that touches Joonmyun's.

The plan is to try out some water activities, but the winds are too strong and the waves are bigger than the usual. Walking along the shoreline becomes more of a risk than a relaxing journey, so Joonmyun drags them to the spa even before Jongdae can protest. They manage to secure a private room for two, and when the masseuses draw the curtains closed and the lights dim, Jongdae takes a deep, deep breath.

It takes every bit of control to not watch Joonmyun pull his shirt over his head, to not follow the dip Joonmyun's fingers take when he tugs at the waistband of his pants and slowly pulls them down. There's a challenge in Joonmyun's eyes when he meets Jongdae head on, and Jongdae clenches his fists, purposely digging his nails into his skin in an effort to keep himself in check.

Joonmyun darts out his tongue, swiping along his upper lip slowly, a small curve surfacing on a corner of his lips. He shucks off his pants, and Jongdae traces the length of Joonmyun's legs with his gaze.

"Excuse me, sir. Are you ready?" one of the masseuses asks, and Joonmyun grins as he climbs onto the massage table, lying in his stomach.

Joonmyun stays focused as Jongdae gets undressed, shirt coming off in one fluid motion, as he pulls his pants down and exhales loudly and lies flat on his belly. When he looks up at Joonmyun again, Joonmyun has already ducked his head into the small opening, and his hands are relaxed on the frame of the table.

Their arms slide against each other on their way back to the room, still slick with oil and the heat of the massage room. Joonmyun's hair is a mess, strands all tangled up, and Jongdae reaches over, running his fingers through the unmade hair. A faint mewl escapes Joonmyun's lips just before they reach their floor, and a sound gets trapped in Jongdae's throat as Joonmyun grabs him by the wrist, dragging him all the way to their room.

Joonmyun makes quick work of the lock and pushes him against the wall as soon as they're inside.

Joonmyun kicks the door shut, and his hands grab onto Jongdae's shirt, pulling him closer until Joonmyun's lips meet his skin. Joonmyun trails kisses down his neck, sucking on the underside of his jaw, the base of his throat, then the skin just below his collarbones. The tips of his fingers are cold and Joonmyun skin is so, so hot, feverish, sticky against his own, and Jongdae lets out a low groan as Joonmyun sucks hard on the skin where jaw meets neck, again and again until a choked _ah_ slips Jongdae's lips.

"Joon… myun…" His breathing is ragged when Joonmyun pulls away, lips trembling, and Joonmyun mumbles something about going to bed and _please don't wake me up_ even before Jongdae can reach out to pull him back in.

 

 

Jongdae stares at his reflection in the mirror, the bright red mark on his neck stealing all the attention. It hadn't burned that much minutes ago, just before Joonmyun disappeared behind the sheets, but now, in the silence of their shared hotel room, the voices haunt him again, and everything that Joonmyun had touched stings.

He looks over his shoulder, at the lump on the bed, and takes a deep breath. A part of him can't help but think that this — the whole trip, that dragging Joonmyun all the way from Apgeujong here to Gangneung, that hoping, even if only for a while, for a bit of respite so willingly offered in Joonmyun's soothing voice and soft smile — is a selfish move, but people do stupid things sometimes when they're lonely, or when they're too happy.

Joonmyun's the best thing that has happened to him in a while. Now, Joonmyun has retreated back into his cocoon, curled up on the bed with all of his shields up.

Joonmyun doesn't rouse from his sleep until nine in the evening. Jongdae had picked up take out food earlier along with a couple of bottles of soju, and he's already halfway through the first bottle when Joonmyun emerges from the sheets. "I hope you're okay with pizza," Jongdae says, softly so that he won't startle Joonmyun, and Joonmyun looks up at him with a soft, tired smile.

"What time is it?"

"Time for dinner." Joonmyun shifts in his position, reaching out to ruffle Joonmyun's hair. Joonmyun flinches for a moment, but soon he sinks into the touch, humming a little as Jongdae massages Joonmyun's scalp. "Want me to feed you?"

"I can eat on my own, hyung," Joonmyun retorts, bumping his shoulder into Jongdae's. He leans his head on Jondgae's and, for a moment, all his worries disappear, fading out and under the sweet allure of Joonmyun's voice.

It's there, though, the tension, in the small space between their thighs, in the way their elbows don't rub against each other, in the way Joonmyun bites off the crust and doesn't move closer to press his lips on Jongdae's fingers. Jongdae sort of misses the warmth, like it has taken root in him, but Joonmyun's still generous with touches — the light brush of knuckles against Jongdae's thigh, or the way the tips of his fingers craze Jongdae's side.

"I… still haven't thanked you," Jongdae says after a while. The taste of soju is thick on his tongue, and the scent reeks in the air. Joonmyun has just begun uncapping his own bottle, a small piece of pizza snug between his lips. "For agreeing to come here with me on such short notice and for getting my mind off of work."

He means Baekhyun's wedding and the way Sunyoung had looked so beautiful and happy when they met at the altar, means Kyungsoo arriving at the reception unannounced and waltzing his way back into Jongdae's life without preamble, but quickly retreating at the slightest sign of attachment. He means distancing himself from his own feelings even if he's brought Joonmyun here with him, trouble and a problem all in one.

Joonmyun looks up at him, eyebrows furrowed, and he takes a swig of his drink before he asks, "You hate your job? I didn't see that coming."

"I don't _hate_ it. It's more of—" No longer feeling the thrill of performing in front of people, the excitement in preparing for a huge event or researching on a TV show before heading there for a guest appearance, more of being worn out to the bone that he has to drag his ass to the office just so he can show up on time. It's more of _not feeling it_ anymore, in the same way that Taeyeon can't feel the song she's being forced to promote for the next sixth months because it isn't _her_. "It's wearing me out more than it should, _faster_ than it should."

Joonmyun laughs a little, but mumbles an apology soon after. "You've been in the industry far too long already, hyung. I don't think there's such a thing as _fast_ for you anymore."

There is — the way Joonmyun had caught his attention with his distinct tone, the way Joonmyun had weaseled his way into his mind and his life, the way Joonmyun had known the right parts to lick on and suck and kiss like he'd been studying Jongdae's body and the way he moves for the longest time already.

"I'm just tired, really, really tired." He exhales loudly, then takes a long swig of his drink. "I'm not sure if a vacation can solve this."

"Are you tired of me, then?" Joonmyun asks, voice steady and low.

Jongdae turns to his side, twisting his torso so that they're face. Joonmyun's has just woken up and the sleep hasn't left his eyes yet, but he hears the request in Joonmyun's tone, curling on his nape and drawing him closer for him to whisper the answer in Joonmyun's ear. He studies the downward tug of Joonmyun's lips, the years written on Joonmyun's skin, the way Joonmyun's eyes soften as he looks up at Jongdae. Joonmyun's gaze is scrutinizing, and Jongdae suddenly feels like he's twenty-one again, stepping on stage for the first time, the fear of the lights drowning him out wrapping around his throat and keeping him from singing.

"You're not my job, Joonmyun," he finally answers.

"What— Who am I to you, then, hyung?"

"You're—" My voice, he wants to say, but Joonmyun is too many things to Jongdae — a muse, his very own music, a reminder that mornings aren't so bad whenever he wakes up to Joonmyun's cute smileys and stickers, a willing ear when he just needs someone to listen, and a soothing voice that casts a spell on him and both eases the tension is his muscles and sets explosions to the tips of his fingers. "My Joonmyunnie," he says, voice almost dropping to a whisper, and he finds cadence again when Joonmyun reaches out, tentative, the tips of his fingers brushing against Jongdae's knee. "You're _my Joonmyunnie._ "

Joonmyun doesn't say anything, just hums and draws circles on Jongdae's knee until soft laughter escapes his lips. They've learned their lesson now, so they both cap their bottles and place them on the floor, well away from the crime scene, before Joonmyun launches a tickle attack, poking Jongdae repeatedly in his side until he can draw a peal of laughter from him.

From where he is — back flat on the bed, Joonmyun's legs and arms and either side of him, trapped in a warmth that has come to be all-too-familiar — Joonmyun looks much bigger, less of that tiny singer he had spotted in Blue Moon months ago. He reaches up, running his hands beneath Joonmyun's shirt, fingers tracing the groove of Joonmyun's abs, and Joonmyun's balance falters, sending him crashing below, face first, into Jongdae's chest.

Joonmyun's laughter fills his ears and tickles the back of his throat.

 

 

The sun's already up high when Jongdae stirs from his sleep.

The aftermath of last night's dinner-cum-drinking session sees the carpets littered with bottle caps, but the food containers have been shuffled to one side of the table — at the center, one container on top of the other. There are a few pieces of chips on the floor, but the bag has been folded, just not sealed. Joonmyun's legs are wrapped around his own and he looks like a kid with that bead of drool flaunted on the corner of his lips, and it takes every bit of control for Jongdae to keep himself from reaching out and wiping it off.

He means to pulls Joonmyun closer, but he has already lost all the feeling in his right arm, tucked under Joonmyun's weight. He settles for hooking his foot on Joonmyun's ankle, and Joonmyun leans closer until his cheek is pressed against Jongdae's chest.

There isn't anyone around, and security probably won't mind, and there are voices in Jongdae's head that are telling him to lean closer, _come on, Jongdae. If there's anything you want, you only have to lean closer and listen—_ Joonmyun's breathing is steady and even, rhythmic, and he's humming an unintelligible melody under his breath, and Joonmyun's less than a touch, a decision away.

Joonmyun shifts a little, and his eyes slowly flutter open. He has nice eyelashes, but the way he looks up at Jongdae with half-lidded eyes is even more beautiful. "Hey, hyung. Good morning."

Jongdae buries his face in Joonmyun's hair, instead. "Check out is in an hour," he whispers. "We have to get going."

Joonmyun laughs and hits him on the chest before getting up.

There's nothing but the sound of their stomachs growling, but occasionally he hears the slight hitch of the breath when their arms brush against each other, or the tiny gasp that escapes Joonmyun's lips when they collide. Jongdae snakes an arm around Joonmyun's hips to keep him from falling, but it might as well be the other way around — Joonmyun's smiling at him, lazy at the corners, and he's shaking his head as if saying, "Don't fall in love with me, not this easily. Don't do it, Jongdae. _Stop it._ "

Too late, Jongdae thinks as he tucks Joonmyun's hair behind his ear with his other hand. He's already in too deep, and there's no other way but to dig even deeper until he can no longer find a way out.

 

 

It's Joonmyun's iPod that they use this time, on their way back to Seoul.

Joonmyun had taken a good five minutes just looking over his shoulder and at the expanse of water a few feet from them, and Jongdae had kept a hand steady on the small of Joonmyun's back the whole time. The walk from the hotel back to the bus station had been quiet, but Joonmyun had started talking again when they'd gotten on the train. Jongdae had stolen one of Joonmyun's earbuds not more than fifteen minutes into the train ride, and Joonmyun had been more than willing to share his music. "Maybe, next time, you should send me your recordings, hyung," he's teases, and Jongdae elbowed him lightly in his side and gave his thigh a light squeeze.

 _hey bud, sorry, forgot to text you but looks like you're having fun, as well?_ Baekhyun texts. Jongdae can imagine Baekhyun's struggle between just shrugging off the worry and letting it take control of his hands, and he laughs at the image — Baekhyun, ever listless, is more than just his voice of reason on one too many times. Baekhyun has always been that anchor he can keep coming back to if he ever lost his way, but Baekhyun had flown away now, had been cast into the ocean so deep that Jongdae can't find his way anymore.

Lucky Joonmyun's there to call out his name; Jongdae only has to swim to shore. It's not even that far.

Joonmyun keeps his eyes closed for most of the trip, but he drums his fingers on Jongdae's thigh, reaching inside from time to time when Jongdae attempts to skip a track. "My iPod, my rules," he whispers, and Jongdae retracts his hands, sitting on them to keep himself from touching Joonmyun.

Three long hours of travel dissolve into one playlist, and Joonmyun pulls away with an easy smile, earbud in tow, when they're back in Apgeujong. Jongdae can hear the noises again — chattering, honking, Seoul's busy street life just a few meters below them. "We should… do this again," Joonmyun says, and he wiggles his fingers in his side, eyes traveling from Jongdae's hands up to the base of his throat, then his lips.

Jongdae looks around for an audience, then slides beside Joonmyun, close enough that their hands brush and their clothes briefly shield their intertwined hands from the view. "Yeah, we should," Jongdae answers, and Joonmyun just smiles up at him, warm and gentle, a love song they've yet to hear on the radio but is this year's greatest hit yet.

 

 

Easing back into Seoul's noise and music doesn't take much — Jongdae has always taken a bit of Seoul with him wherever he goes, and Kyungsoo's quiet-but-not-quite company makes the transition easier even after three days of respite. "You seem awfully bubbly," is the only thing Kyungsoo says when he finishes listening to a track Jongdae has been tasked to work on for him. "This song, more than anything else. You have a lyrics for this already, hyung?"

Jongdae crosses his arms behind his head, locking his hands onto his elbows. "Haven't worked that out yet, but I have an idea of what I want you to sing." Kyungsoo has an eyebrow raised; this means he's waiting for the punchline that almost never comes, or the part where Jongdae leans in and steps into his private space. It's not an option anymore. "How do you feel about love at first sight?"

Kyungsoo narrows his eyes, but the smile on his lips remains. Kyungsoo hasn't had the best control over his lips in a while, or at least in the three years that Jongdae has known him. "The same way you feel about Cuervo — a complete waste of time." He shifts in his seat, folding one leg under his thigh. "Try again."

Working with Kyungsoo isn't as difficult as keeping track of the expiration dates of the food in his fridge. Kyungsoo has almost always been relenting when it comes to music, letting Jongdae have complete control over the melody and the lyrics because he knows Jongdae has his voice memorized like the back of his hand. He'll only come forward with a complaint when he knows a note is well out of his range, or when Jongdae forces him to sing pop songs that make him hate every second of a recording session. He'll extend an invitation to go out for dinner after, though, once he's sure he's left a slap on Jongdae's arm that burns and stings. (He'll tease Jongdae and ask him to pay, but he'll always end up footing the bill.)

"Finally coming to terms with one's feelings, then?" Jongdae tries, moving closer until their knees bump. The tight corners of Kyungsoo's lips soften a little, and Jongdae takes it as a sign to go on. "A gradual realization? It happens, you know—"

"Maybe _you'd_ be better of singing that song, hyung." The smile on Kyungsoo's lips grows wider, tugging up at one corner too hard. It almost reaches his eyes. If Jongdae tries harder, he can earn that smile again, but it's not a battle he should be fighting.

Jongdae adjusts the tempo a bit, slowing it down until Kyungsoo flashes a thumbs up at him, and Kyungsoo hums as Jongdae tries to work out the first verse up until the chorus. It's familiar enough a routine that he expects Kyungsoo to peek at his work, chin tucked on his shoulder, expects Kyungsoo to maybe steal the pen and take over writing duties, scribbling on the lyrics he's written, so he waits — for that moment, three years ago, when this seemed more like a love song begging to be sung than a song finally coming full circle. Kyungsoo maintains a good distance from him, only occasionally bumping his elbow into Jongdae's own when he leans over to squint at the lyrics Jongdae is showing him.

"You're having way too much fun with this, hyung," Kyungsoo comments after a while, head thrown back, eyes closed. "I could get used to it."

Jongdae takes a deep breath and re-reads the lyrics he has written, Kyungsoo humming the tune in the background. Having fun is something he can definitely get used to.

 

 

The days leading up to _Sooneung_ find Joonmyun staying longer hours in the _hagwon,_ moving from Apgeujong to Hongdae and back too late in the evening that he spends most nights conked out on his bed or curled up with a book, phone pressed to his right ear as Jongdae talks him off and Joonmyun just hums and chuckles and sings on the other end of the line.

"If we keep doing this, I might consider charging extra for phone services," Jongdae teases, and only grins when Joonmyun cackles at him in response. He keeps his face buried in a pillow, briefly forgetting that Joonmyun can't see him — but can hear him very well.

"Are you going to talk to me until you fall asleep, hyung?" Joonmyun asks.

Jongdae can hear the fatigue in his voice, the steady drop in volume that soon dissolves into a yawn. "Are _you_ going to stay on the line until _you_ fall asleep, hmm?"

There's rustling in the background and the sound of Joonmyun running his thumb through the pages of a book. He's had an earful of this sound when they'd traveled to Gangneung together, Joonmyun with his head on Jongdae's shoulder and Jongdae with his fingers wandering over to Joonmyun's thigh, the touch brief and feather-light, testing to see if Joonmyun will look up from his book or snap it shut altogether. He'd done neither; instead, the corners of his lips quirked up, lifting with every pattern Jongdae traced on his thigh.

"It would be easier if…" Some more rustling, like Joonmyun can't find a comfortable position in his very own bed. "You were here. Since I sing in my sleep. You said so, yourself."

"I told you, I was kidding when I said that—"

"I'm not kidding now, hyung." A loud exhale, then, "Good night, Kim Jong—"

"Do you have time on Saturday?"

There's silence for a while, a familiar white noise that sends shivers down Jongdae's spine. They're at this point again, where the air thins and Jongdae's breath hitches at the slightest sound of Joonmyun's voice. "I can make time for you," Joonmyun says after a while, and Jongdae lets out all the breath he wasn't aware he'd held in.

"Meet me at the 7-11 two blocks away from your office, the one near Garosu-gil."

Joonmyun chuckles a little. The soft, almost inaudible music sets explosions at the tips of Jongdae's fingers. "It's a date."

 

 

He digs his hands into his pockets, circling the lamp post for the nth time as he looks around him for any sign of a blond man just a bit smaller than him. They'd agreed to meet at 7, but Joonmyun had to fix a few more things before calling it a night at the _hagwon_. _Sooneung_ is only a little over a month away, and Lord knows students put more pressure on themselves during the last leg of the study season. Longer nights mean Joonmyun sending him unintelligible messages on KKT that he later deciphers in the morning, after a cup of coffee and after Joonmyun sends a follow up text, saying, _that was me falling asleep in the middle actually saying something important._

He looks to his left and spots a man waving at him, a beanie covering his bright hair. Joonmyun had finally given up on his light-colored blazer, filing it in his closet for summer, and has moved on to using a navy blue blazer, sometimes even a maroon one. It breathes more color into Joonmyun's pale skin and goes well with the light flush on his cheeks.

"I had to go back to the office five minutes into my walk," Joonmyun explains, a sheepish smile slipping from his lips. "I didn't realize it would be this cold tonight."

"Exactly how long have you been living here in Korea, hmm?"

Joonmyun twirls in his spot, then dips his hand in the pocket of Jongdae's coat, pulling him closer. "I think the question should be how long have I been staying out late here in Gangnam, and how often?"

Jongdae looks around for an audience, then leans in, stopping when their noses brush. The tip of Joonmyun's nose is cold; it tickles. "You better start evaluating who you hang out with."

Joonmyun slips his fingers — slender and cold — between Jongdae's own, and cocks his head in the direction of the building in front of them. "Let's?"

They cross the street and take the flight of stairs down the building, the white walls closing in on them with each step. The route narrows to a short corridor, and Jongdae presses on, leading Joonmyun forward until they reach a white door. "This is my second favorite place in the world," he whispers when he looks over his shoulder, then twists the knob with his free hand, opening the door, and the music starts to seep through the small opening.

Jongdae takes a step forward, then urges to Joonmyun to step inside, a hand steady on the small of Joonmyun's back. "This… looks pretty cozy," Joonmyun mumbles after a while, and they make their way through some small tables near the entrance, closer to the bar until they reach a part of the club where the lighting's the softest. "Are we the only ones here?"

"People don't come here often. It's a hidden gem in Sinsa." Jongdae waves at the bartender, then runs his fingers along the edge of the table. "Take a seat. You can even lie down if you want."

Joonmyun laughs a little. "You talk as if you own this place."

Jongdae squints, leaning closer until he's on eye-level with Joonmyun. He can feel Joonmyun's breath warm on his skin, prickling the dip of his lip. Joonmyun's leaning back, a challenge in the glint of his eyes, a question written on the curl of the lip. "Oh, but what if I do?" Jongdae teases, and Joonmyun just shakes his head, grabbing Jongdae by the wrist to pull him down.

"You're having your usual?" Jongdae asks, and Joonmyun simply nods. He wrinkles his nose at Joonmyun before slipping away, heading to the bar to grab their drinks.

The evening dissolves into a talk about _Sooneung_ and kids panicking, reminiscing the days when they, themselves, had been preparing for the big exam. Jongdae remembers sneaking in studying between practices, spending nights up in the rooftop, back against the wall near the door as he goes through his reading materials for the night. Baekhyun would knock thrice and bring him some food, and they'd just stay there, sifting through their notes, taking a nap occasionally when the big words begin to weigh down on them.

"I stayed at Minseok-hyung's place the night of the exam, because I hadn't developed the skill in waking up to an alarm clock then," Joonmyun confesses, He takes a sip of his drink — Jongdae will never understand what Joonmyun sees in drinking vodka neat — and rest his lips there, even as he gulps hard. "Sometimes, he still checks on me in the mornings. Keeps thinking that I'll oversleep or even drift off in the cab or something."

Jongdae cracks his neck, then leans back as he takes a sip of his drink. "It takes more than an alarm clock to wake me up sometimes."

Joonmyun's eyes light up, and he cocks his head to the left. Jongdae's eyes are drawn to the column of his neck, the exposed flesh, the light flush painting it a warmer color. "Mhmm? What does it take to wake you up, hyung?"

A trip to Gangneung. Walking along Gyeongpo beach. Too many bottles of soju and one song on loop in his mind, the same voice ringing in his ears long after the song has faded out. Joonmyun's lips, warm and wet, tracing kisses down his neck, sucking on the skin just below his collarbones.

"KKT notifications buzzing in my ear, definitely," Jongdae replies. He leans in until he can feel the warm press of Joonmyun's skin on his lips, can feel the pulse on the base of Joonmyun's throat as he plants a kiss there, then licks a stripe along the column of Joonmyun's neck. "And a voice that just won't leave me."

"You better take it up with that—" Joonmyun's speech gets choked as Jongdae dips his head, moving just a bit south as he sucks marks along Joonmyun's neck. "—that person. Must be really—"

"Amazing," Jongdae finishes. He can feel Joonmyun's heavy breathing, can hear the loud beats in his ear, drowning out the voices at the back of his mind. He can feel Joonmyun trembling, his cold fingers slipping between Jongdae's own, and he plants a soft his on the underside of Joonmyun's jaw before pulling away. Joonmyun gasps, soft, almost inaudible, and Jongdae records that sound, plays it in his ears again and again until it blends with the music that Joonmyun's laughter and singing create.

 

 

He enters Lee Sooman's office with two cups of coffee in hand and a request to spare him just a few minutes of his time in the middle of October.

"I haven't seen you in a while," Sooman says, then gestures for him to take a seat. He eyes the cup of coffee with great interest, and Jongdae tries to mumble something that remotely sounds like _Go ahead, sir. Those are both Americano. Your favorite, right?_ He takes the sleeve off, glancing at the markings on the cup, and laughs a little before turning to Jongdae. "Either you've developed a liking for Splenda or you just miss me," Sooman says, and Jongdae laughs a little.

"I have a teeny, tiny request that might not be as tiny as I think it is," Jongdae begins. He shuffles his feet and thinks of Joonmyun's text that morning — _just do it, hyung. nothing to lose c: plus you have coffee so you can make yourself happy if he ever decides to say no :p_ — finding himself smiling a bit too wide when he sees the light furrow of Sooman's eyebrows. "I… I'm not sure if I still want to do the idol thing, sir, but I think my calling is in… training people."

"Training—" A smile slowly forms on Sooman's lips. "And why do you think will you be better off with training people, hmm?"

"Well…" Jongdae's mind goes back to season one, Kyungsoo's blind auditions, and thinks of where Kyungsoo is now — preparing for this third studio album after returning to Korea from an Asia concert tour. He thinks of Kim Myungsoo from season two and how he'd managed to grab the rookie of the year award despite Nam Woohyun winning that season. He thinks of Joonmyun and all those nights in Blue Moon and ZZYZX and Heaven, the small gigs at Finger, the playlist of Joonmyun's recordings in his iPod. "Kyungsoo's working on another album now, and Myungsoo's preparing for his comeback, and there's this kid I've picked up in Blue Moon and they've all been sounding great under my care." He takes a deep breath, summoning a smile to his lips. "I think I'm more than qualified for the job."

Sooman looks at him, assessing, and nods as he laughs lightly. "I heard that thing with Taeyeon, you know. She told me she wasn't feeling the song Kenzie had composed for her." Sooman takes off the lid of the cup and takes a whiff of the coffee. "Then she said that she wants to promote the song you wrote for her, because you know her voice inside-out."

Jongdae chuckles. "That was supposed to be a conversation between two drunk people."

"Well then, you better invite me to one of your drinking escapades sometime!"

It's easy to choke up laughter in an office as warm as this, he thinks, as Sooman raises his coffee cup as if proposing a toast. Jongdae takes the other cup, lifting it tentatively. He can still feel his shoulders trembling. "When do you want to start, then?"

"Later?" he replies, then scratches the back of his neck. "You know I get antsy when I'm not doing anything, sir."

"In that case—" Sooman leans in, bumping his cup into Jongdae's lightly, then continues, "—you better not be slacking off, Kim Jongdae."

Jongdae lets a peal of laughter slip from his lips as he nods, eyes still locked with Sooman's own. "You can count on it, sir," he replies, then returns the gesture. "You can count on it."

 

 

The worst part of _Sooneung_ is coffee shops opening late, but it gives Jongdae an excuse to get up later than the usual, hitting the road at half past ten in the morning, walking from Cheongdam to Apgeujong. Rerouting is the second worst thing, but it's easier to live with. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, burying his lips in the scarf wound around his neck. The streets are quiet, and in a few hours students will come rushing out of the testing centers, bawling their eyes out or shouting for joy and announcing to the world that they'll be crashing in bed for the next few hours.

Jongdae makes a right turn, then walks straight ahead until he finds a yellow building. Joonmyun had texted earlier, saying that he's finally back from distributing food to the parents waiting outside the testing centers, and, "I still have a couple of sandwiches here. Want some?" Maybe he'll snatch a few for himself and live on them for the next few days or until he develops the habit of not having to eat when he stays up late. Joonmyun's good company, albeit not the most talkative, at three in the morning, after all.

He presses the buzzer, and Joonmyun appears at the reception a few seconds after in a hoodie and black pants. It feels a lot like _Sooneung,_ and the lines on his forehead aren't as pronounced anymore. "Hi," Jongdae mouths, and Joonmyun finally opens the door when Jongdae sticks out his tongue.

"I hope you're really hungry, because I have a lot of sandwiches left," Joonmyun singsongs. He hooks an arm around Jongdae's own and drags him to the main hall. "I sent Minseok-hyung and Jongin home just a few minutes ago. Jonginnie looked as if he was going to drift off any moment."

"Weak," Jongdae mumbles, and Joonmyun jabs him lightly on the arm.

They share a sandwich because Joonmyun isn't a heavy eater, and Jongdae can't eat without a good cup of coffee. Joonmyun leads him to the hall for the private study cubicles soon after, and they check each and every stall to see if any belongings have been left behind. "Someone left her wallet last year, but both Minseok-hyung and I knew that she did that on purpose just so she could see Jonginnie again," Joonmyun comments somewhere along the way, and they stumble into a stall, with Jongdae almost tripping on the curtain.

"I'd leave my stuff here just to have an excuse to see you," he whispers, leaning close until his lips are grazing Joonmyun's earlobe. He hears the hitch in Joonmyun's breathing, and Joonmyun wraps cold fingers around Jongdae's wrist. A sharp line of electricity shoots up his arm, and soon he stumbling over his words, voice choked as Joonmyun slowly leans in. "Accidentally, of course, because I like to believe in chance meetings."

The stall is too small for two people to fit in, but Joonmyun makes it easy, sitting atop the table and hooking his legs around Jongdae's own. "Chance meetings, huh?" Joonmyun whispers, and he moves closer, their foreheads bumping. Joonmyun's hot breath tickles his skin.

Jongdae thinks of _Sooneung,_ of the long and grueling preparation for an exam that lasts a little under ten hours, of all the sleepless nights spent trying to make sure that he's already learned everything there is to learn and making sure that the information sticks there, in his brain, and seeps right into his skin. He thinks of the years of training spent alongside Baekhyun and Jonghyun, thinks of vocal lessons with Kyungsoo, and thinks of how all of them have moved onto something better, bigger, _brighter._

He thinks of meeting Joonmyun in Blue Moon completely on chance, of hearing Joonmyun perform on stage and seeing him use his loop pedal, of all those late nights spent in clubs following that voice, that music that more than eases the tension in his muscles and puts his heart at ease.

He thinks of Joonmyun right in front of him, wet lips parted and willing and waiting, and takes a deep breath.

He presses closer, dipping his head a little as he looks for the right angle. Joonmyun cranes his neck, and their lips meet in a light brush. He can feel shivers running down his spine, can feel a familiar heat sizzling down his abdomen. This is a test, a test to see if Jongdae's willing to take that step forward and step into the light, grab the microphone closest to him and take someone from the crowd, a familiar face lit up by a bright smile and equally bright hair, pull him up on stage and ask him if they can perform a duet. It's a test to see if their voices will fit. Jongdae closes his eyes and captures Joonmyun's bottom lip between his lips, sinking his teeth in the soft flesh just a little until Joonmyun lets out a low moan. He presses a kiss to the corner of Joonmyun's lips — the left, then the right — and reclaims Joonmyun's bottom lip as he draws out a long suck. Joonmyun throws his head back a little as he parts his lips in invitation, and Jongdae takes that leap of faith, licking the back of Joonmyun's teeth. He can feel Joonmyun's fingers, cold and trembling, curling on his nape, pulling him closer, and he sucks on Joonmyun's tongue in response. Joonmyun kisses like nothing and no one outside of this matters, and Jongdae lets himself get lost in the soft, warm press of Joonmyun's lips on his.

Joonmyun nips on Jongdae's bottom lip, giggling before he sucks it in, then pulls away with a smile.

Jongdae thinks of Joonmyun's voice and his distinct tone, of Joonmyun singing along side him. He thinks of duets. He thinks of a future so clearly scrawled on Joonmyun's skin, his lips, his tongue.

He thinks of Joonmyun.

 

 

It's that time of the year again, when Jongdae finds himself spending nearly the entire day plastered to a huge, red seat. He's lucky the cushions are more comfortable this year, and the set's been improved considerably. Jongdae stretches his legs, nearly smacking his foot into the podium in front of him; he never learns.

Beside him, Boa lets out a low groan as she says, "I'm waiting for the first four-chair turner." She frowns a little, but slips into a practiced smile when the lights dim and the floor director tells them that the next contestant will be getting on stage in a minute. "The talents are good, but only just? I mean, we've heard better voices."

At the far end of the row Jonghyun raises two thumbs up, and Jongdae briefly wonders when Jonghyun acquired superior hearing skills. Taeyeon slaps him on the arm, and Boa and Jongdae chuckle in harmony. The familiar, playful banter makes hours of being glued to a chair much more bearable.

The set has gone completely dark now, and Jongdae can hear faint footsteps. He waits for the sound of the band, too many instruments somehow coming to an agreement and creating wonderful music, but he hears nothing. He taps his foot, and Boa shoots him a glance, eyebrows furrowed as she mouths, _Is this a joke?_

Then a guitar riff comes in, soft and slow. Boa sinks in her seat.

The music starts with easy strumming, then some plucking, and only after a while does Jongdae realize that this is the second layer of sound now, the music slowly gaining more depth. He twists his torso, but promptly remembers that there are rules to be followed. He waits for a third layer — soft humming, a familiar velvety tone that gets fuller as the notes get higher — and then a fourth where the voice takes a dip, a faint, low tone.

He bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from grinning, but the pull is much too strong. His body moves on its own accord, acting completely on muscle memory when a familiar voice soars above the sound of the guitar. He hits a standstill, hand hovering the button in front of him, and a voice at the back of his head joins the harmony, two voices that sound so alike, wrapping around him like a warm quilt.

He takes a deep breath, holding it as he presses down on the red button.

The chair takes a slow turn. The spotlight glows brighter, and Jongdae squints as he sees bright, blond hair, and a familiar pair of eyes looking up at him. The light is a bit too harsh, but Joonmyun stands out despite his white polo and his blue jeans and that horrible, horrible middle part, and Jongdae finds himself releasing his hold on his cheek, the grin he'd once suppressed tugging hard on the corners of his lips. The song hits the chorus, and he hears a few more buttons being pushed — Jonghyun's, then Taeyeon's, then Boa's — and the twinkle in Joonmyun's eyes chokes down all of the words lodged at his throat.

He hums under his breath, lips moving in tandem with Joonmyun's own.

They sing.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Almost all of the songs Joonmyun sang are in this **[playlist](https://soundcloud.com/kjmsuhos)**. Please do note that the pitch has been modified slightly (one to two steps higher) so that it will be easier to imagine Joonmyun singing the songs. For a detailed breakdown of the songs:  
>     • The first song Joonmyun performed in Blue Moon is Ed Sheeran's _[Give Me Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j8cADX87-2I)_  
>     • The second song, the one performed in ZZYZX is Ed Sheeran's _[One](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ix9NXVIbm2A)_  
>     • Joonmyun also performed Alex Vargas's _[Wasteland](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5MxWVORG9vg)_ in ZZYZX, the same day that he performed _One_  
>  2\. A guide to everyone's ages: Jongdae, Jonghyun, and Baekhyun are 38. Taeyeon is 39, while Boa is 40. Joonmyun is fresh off of college, and he's 25 in this fic.  
> 3\. Sunyoung's hometown isn't Jeonju; she was actually born and raised in Seoul.  
> 4\. _Hagwon_ is the Korean "cram school". It's normal for high school students to attend cram schools in Korea, not because they are struggling with their grades but because they feel that the standard education schools give isn't enough. For students looking to advance their knowledge in preparation for a big exam, attending a hagwon is a wise decision.  
>  5\. _Sooneung_ is the Korean College Scholastic Ability Test, held only once a year, every second or third Thursday of November. Koreans prepare for this exam long before they enter high school.  
>  6\. _Gyeongpo Beach_ is located in Gangneung, a city in Gangwon-do. To reach the beach, ride the express bus to Gangneung, then take bus 202 up until the very last station.  
>  7\. All of the clubs mentioned in this fic are real, as well as the cafes. Some of the names have been shortened, like _Blue Moon_ for Once in a Blue Moon, and _Heaven_ for Club Heaven. While most of the establishments mentioned can be found in Gangnam, Cafe Organic can be found in Hongdae.  
>  8\. The title of the fic was taken from an Arctic Monkey song.
> 
> * For a little music while reading the fic, here's Coldplay's _[A Sky Full of Stars](http://youtu.be/zp7NtW_hKJI)_ and Justin Timberlake's _[Not a Bad Thing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vjty080jy60&feature=kp)_


End file.
